KITXVYK    STORIES 


KITWYK   STORIES 


ANNA   EICHBERG    KING 

AUTHOR  OK  "  BROWN'S   RETREAT,  AND  OTHER  STORIES 


NEW   YORK 
THE    CENTURY    CO. 


TO 

JULIUS    KICHHKRC. 

WHOSE  RARE  WIT  AND  CHARM  WKRK  AN 
INSPIRATION,  THESE  STORIES  ARK  I  >KI  UCATE1) 
IN  LOVING  MEMORY  KY  HIS  DAUGHTER 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

'I'm:  COURTING  OK  JUFFROUW  VAN  Loo      ....  i 

THE   FACTIONS  OK   KITWVK 46 

Tui'.  SINGULAR  CLEVERNESS  OK  TOMY   VAN    Loo    .  54 

TlLK  VIOLONCELLO  OF  JUKKROUW  RoZENKOOM   .    .  64 

IUITKOUW  VAX  STKKN 96 

TllK    \\'ll.l)     HUNTSMEN    OK    KlTWVK 136 

THE   BLIGHTING  OF   MVNHKKR  VAN  STKEN      ...  157 

THE  BURGOMASTER'S  SOFA 176 

JOSSKLIN 203 

A  TRAGEDY  OF  KITWVK 230 

A   ROMANCE  OF   KITWVK 248 

THE  STORY  OF   LESKEN 271 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 


"'JOSSELIX,  JOSSELIX,    I   FKAR  TUTS  IS 

LOVE" FRONTISPIECE 

F  ACINi;    1'AC.E 

JAXI.T  AXD   T>EXTINCK   IN  THE   MYRTLE  ARDOR  3f 

"JUFFROUW     1)E     K.OCK     DOZED     OEXTLY     OVER     HER 

lill'.LE" 48 

"'MISTRESS    VAX    Loo,    WHICH    is    YOUR    CANDI 
DATE?"      50 

MKVROUW'S  CANDIDATE 52 

THE  TOWX-PUMP 54 

"   M.YNHEER     DEFREU.GE     DOZED     IN     Co.Ml'AXY    WITH 

HIS    DoO     Poi.DF.R  " 56 

"HE  STORMED  TO   HIS  CLIMAX  IN  RAPTURE"      .  61 

"TiiE   CHARIOT  POUNDED  SLOWLY  AI.OXO"    .    .    .  85 

JIM. is       f)2 

"AuxT  JETTA  FOI.I>I':D   HER   HANDS   AND  WAS  DIS 
TINCTLY    ICY    IX    HER    JOY" 98 

THE    OKEAT     I)l.     KlASIlR     SAT     IN     A     CubP.Y-HOLE  I  O.| 

"'SELL  A    PICTURE  OF  A  Cow'" 108 

JASPER 113 

M  ETTJE .      .      .  120 

'"I    AM    NICODEMCS    I)i:    KEYSER'"  128 


AND    SO     THF.Y    \VAIkl. I>    VKKY     SLOWLY     |K)\VN     TIIK 

SUN-PLASHKD     Ri  'AH  " 171 

TlIIKI.    (AMI.     in    AN    ol.li     HoL'SK" 2  1   | 

\>  >UX<;     I  )l      I.I  SKKN        2-  - 

M  i>  i  RESS    l!i:  i  i  Y  ....         ^7  ) 

Dl!    IKUII     I.XAMIM,-     III!      DlSASll.K     KKOM     \    DlS- 

TAN(   I'. 2 So 

Konrs  AND  iu>   1'ri'ii 2^<> 

J  AN'S  ( '<  H'K  r>ini'      ..'<)i 

DI-:    LKSK.KN   KNTKKTAININC ^o:> 

J  \  N     R  I    !  I    K  V  - 312 

I  \     Till.     (  >k(    111-  IR  \                                                T,  I  f) 


KITXYYK    STORIES 


THE  COURTING  OF 
JUFFROUW  VAN  LOO 


IN  the  outskirts  of  Kitwyk  stood  the  castle 
of  Ten  Brink,  an  old  ruin  built  on  three  sides 
of  a  quadrangle,  and  surrounded  by  a  moat 
covered  with  a  bright  green  scum  and  lily- 
pads,  and  agitated  by  nothing  more  warlike 
than  a  family  of  ducks  floating  about,  while 
bullfrogs,  like  a  hidden  orchestra,  kept  up  a 
lively  bass.  Ruin  and  blight  had  fallen  on 
Ten  Brink  ;  its  stone  steps  were  sunken  and 
crumbling,  grass  grew  between  the  cracks, 
while  the  crest  of  the  noble  family  of  Ten 
Brink  over  the  main  entrance:  was  wiped  out 
by  time  and  disaster. 

The  windows  in  the  state  apartments  were 
broken,  while  the  planks  that  boarded  up 
others  were  hanging  by  a  few  nails,  and  witli 
the  exception  of  bats  at  night  nothing  broke 
the  silence  except  the  occasional  flap  of  Juf- 
trouw  de  Rock's  washing  hung  up  to  dry  in  the 
forsaken  banqueting-hall.  The  three  weather- 


2  KITWYK    STOKIKS 

cocks  that  capped  the  three  wind's,  irom  which 
the  dull  red  tiles  fell  with  a  inehmcln  >1  y  thud, 
had  a  discouraged  i^norin^"  <>(  the  changes  in 
the  wind,  as  it  ihr  rust  <>t  centuries  held  them 
last  l»y  the  le_^s.  (  )n  a  metal  vane  a  lor^'t it- 
ten  artisan  had  cut  the  date — 1520. 

I  he  castle  <>t  I  en  Brink  had  been  deserted 
tor  three  centuries  when  one  day  it  was  in 
vaded  l»y  the  mother  <>t  (uitrouw  de  Kock, 
who  took  possession  ot  the  silence,  and  marked 
her  advent  l>y  paint,  and  an  unsparing  use  ot 
the  mop.  A  LH'een  frontdoor  replaced  a  bat- 
tered  oaken  structure,  and  a  stern  hand  hid 
with  a  solid  layer  ot  white  paint  the  Bloomy 
wood-carvings  ot  the  stairs  that  led  to  die 
forsaken  banquetin^'-room.  I  he  tower  cham 
ber,  a  kind  ot  huvj:  anteroom  where:  once 
men  at-arms  loafed  and  diced,  had  been  con 
verted  Irom  the  errors  ot  its  way  by  the  same 
useful  fluid. 

It  was  a  Laeat  circular  space  lighted  by  live 
windows,  and  so  thick  were  the  walls  that 
each  window  in  its  embrasure  formed  a  room 
by  itself.  The  main  room  was  the  kitchen, 
where  stood  the  eaeat  hearth,  with  a  cliint/ 
frill  about  the  hi-h  chimney,  and  capped  by 
a  row  of  delft  plates.  The  tea-kettle  on  its 


THE    COURTING    OF    JUFFROUW  VAN    LOO      3 

brass  brazier  stood  beside  Juffrouw  de  Kock's 
chair,  and  moved  with  her  from  window  to 
window,  until  the  fifth,  which  she  reached 
by  sunset.  There  she  read  her  Bible,  and 
watched  the  great  red  sun  sink  behind  the 
Kitwyk  mill,  the  barges  floating  lazily  down 
the  canals  with  flapping  sails,  and  the  trck- 
scJiuits  trundling  heavily  in  the  rear. 

By  what  right  the  De  Kocks  had  invaded 
Ten  Brink  no  one  ever  knew,  and  Kitwyk  was 
bewildered  by  an  uncertainty  whether  to  con 
sider  them  aristocratic  by  reason  of  their  being 
the  illegal  representatives  of  the  race  of  Ten 
Brink,  or  whether  to  despise  them  because  of 
their  inability  to  live  anywhere  else  by  reason 
of  their  poverty. 

One  spring  day,  forty  years  before,  Overste 
(Captain)  de  Kock — he  was  not  Overste  de 
Kock  then  —  left  Kitwyk  for  Java,  full  of 
dreams  of  glory,  curry,  and  pineapples.  He 
promised  his  sister  that  he  would  live  to  be  a 
general  at  least,  and  then  he  would  do  great 
things  for — here  he  nodded  at  young  Ensign 
Donderkull,  who  stood  beside  her  chewing 
a  dandelion  blossom,  while  Juffrouw  de  Kock 
hung  her  head  until  the  gold  ornaments  at  her 
temples  played  a  tinkling  tune.  The)-  crossed 


4  KITNYYK    STORIKS 

the  crumbling  loot-bridge  over  the  mo;it,  and 
[uttrouw  de  Kock  stared  alter  them  with 
something  dim  in  her  eyes,  th.it  played  havoc 
with  the  broad  back  ot  a  heavy  youth  in  a 
martial  pot-hat,  pigtail,  and  cavalry  boots. 
Xo,  not  her  brother. 

The  day  belore  she  had  taken  her  newly 
spun  linen  to  the  meadow,  and  as  she  knelt 
in  the  Iresh  young  spring  grass,  and  smoothed, 
tile  fragrant  white  strips,  she  looked  up  in 
humble  surprise  as  a  young  man  sauntered 
heavily  toward  her,  his  hands  in  his  breeches' 
]  >ockets. 

"  \\  e  must  go  to-morrow."  Knsign  I  )on- 
derkull  broke  the  silence. 

fuftrouw  de  Kock  clambered  to  her  leet, 
and  looked  steadily  at  the  Kitwyk  windmill, 
as  if  she  had  never  seen  it  before. 

"  |a\-a  is  tar  Irom  here,"  he  continued,  and 
kicked  at  her  neat  layer  ot  wet  linen.  She 
ignored  the  frightful  sacrilege,  and  sighed. 

"  |ava  /\  very  far  away,"  she  murmured,  and 
looked  down  at  her  wooden  shoes. 

"  Yes,"  said  Knsign  I  hmderkull,  and  rubbed 
his  chin;  then,  as  il  seixed  by  a  sudden  in 
spiration,  "l>ut  some  day.  fultrouw  de  Kock, 
I  shall  c:ome  back,"  whereupon  he  turned  on 
his  heel  and  left  her  standiiV''  there. 


THE    COURTING    OF  JUFFROUW  VAN    LOO      5 

She  knelt  again,  and  picked  a  dandelion  his 
valiant  toes  had  crushed,  and  hid  it  in  her 
pocket  as  if  it  were  a  crime. 

Such  was  Juffronw  cle  Rock's  romance. 
Forty  years  had  gone  by,  and  he  had  not 
returned,  and  in  her  Bible  lay  a  withered 
flower.  Some  day  he  would  come  back  ;  he 
had  said  so.  So  the  years  passed.  Then 
one  day  there  came  home  to  her,  with  shat 
tered  dreams,  a  bad  liver,  the  devil  ot  a  tem 
per,  and  a  small  pension,  her  brother  Overste 
de  Kock. 

I  Ie  was  a  little  sun-dried  man  with  a  tem 
per  hopelessly  undermined  by  cayenne  pepper 
and  curries,  and  it  was  a  source  of  never-fail 
ing  interest  in  the  tap-room  of  William  the 
Silent  what  kind  of  curse  word  Overste  de 
Kock  would  invent  next. 

It  was  a  year  after  his  return  before  Jtif- 
frouw  de  Kock  summoned  up  enough  courage 
to  ask  him  a  question,  and  a  faint  blush  crept 
up  her  old  cheeks  to  the  edge  of  the  frilled 
muslin  cap. 

"And  young  Ensign  Donderkull  ?  " 

1  low  she  had  pondered  over  that  question 
for  forty  years  !  She  was  sei/ed  with  a  sud 
den  terror  at  sound  of  the  name  which  she 
had  not  heard  lor  nearly  hall  a  century. 


(>  KITYVYK    SToRlKS 

"  (  )h,    ho!  —  youn-'    Knsi-'n    Donderkull - 

youn-' — ha!  ha! — and  what  may  you  want 
to  know  ot  him  —  youn-'  Lnsi-n  Donderkull?" 

"  Is  —  is  —  he  livin--  .J  " 

"  Living?  I  should  rather  think  so."  His 
sense  ot  the  ludicrous  was  visibly  aroused. 
Livin-',  indeed — "The  rich  and  -Teat  den- 
eral  Donderkull!  '  and  he  wa-~-'ed  his  head 
until  his  pi-tail  tickled  both  his  ears  at  once. 

"  The  rich  and  -Teat  (General   Donderkull!" 

"Commander-in-chief  of  the  Dutch  army 
in  Java,"  roared  her  brother.  I  le  had  his 
weakness,  but  he  did  not  grudge  the  superior 
-'ond  tortune  ot  his  old  comrade  in  arms. 

His  sister  sank  on  the  nearest  chair,  and 
stared  tirst  at  her  brother  and  then  throu-'h 
the  window  at  the  familiar  slope  ot  the 
meadow.  Then  she  spoke  a-'ain: 


"  I  le  married  ?  \\  hat  concern  is  it  of  yours, 
juttrouw  de  Kock?  The  -Teat  Donderkull 
marry?  In  the  devil's  name,  why?" 

[uttrouw  de  Kock  was  silent.  Rich,  and 
-Teat,  and  a  general,  but  unmarried  —  so  she 
mi-lit  still  look  on  the  meadow  when  the  sun 
went  down. 


THE   COURTING   OF  JUFFROUW  VAN    LOO       7 

II 

IF  the  DC  Kocks  of  Kitwyk  were  poor,  on 
the  other  hand  the  De  Kocks  of  Amsterdam 
were  exceedingly  rich.  So  sensitive  was  Myn 
heer  de  Kock  of  Amsterdam  that  it  made  him 
ill  to  look  at  a  beggar. 

liven  Mynheer  de  Kock's  black  poodle 
howled  at  the  sight  of  a  shabby  passer-by. 
Mynheer  was  fat  and  choleric  in  a  silent  way, 
Mevrouw  de  Kock  was  fat  and  stony  in  a 
silent  way.  They  sat  opposite  each  other 
at  two  windows  overlooking  the  canal,  and 
while  he  smoked  and  drank  tea,  she  knitted 
and  drank  tea.  They  both  abhorred  commo 
tion,  and  the\'  shrank  together  in  sympathy 
when  young  Bentinck  de  Kock  stormed  in.  If 
Mynheer  could  have  summoned  up  enough 
energy  to  wonder,  perhaps  he  would  have 
wondered  how  he  and  Mevrouw  de  Kock 
could  have  been  responsible  for  anything  so 
lively  as  Bentinck.  The  effort  of  seeing  him 
enjoy  life  exhausted  them. 

1  I  is  appearance  \vas  so  agitating  that  no 
sooner  \vas  he  gone  than  his  mother  and  la 
ther  and  the  black  poodle  at  once  tell  asleep 
from  sheer  weariness. 


s  KUWYK  STOKIKS 

"\\h\  do  you  smile  so  much?"  Mynheer 
once  asked  him  in  his  exasperation. 

"  Because  lite  is  so  pleasant,  and  1  am  your 
son."  he  answered  t^aily. 

"\ounu;  man,  do  I  smile  in  that  inane 
lashion  ?  " 

"Ah.  Mynheer,  you  have  no  such  reason," 
the  other  answered  lightly;  "tor  you  arc:  my 
father." 

lie  had  l>een  turned  out  ot  several  educa 
tional  establishments  and  two  universities  by 
reason  ot  his  liveliness,  hut  he  resigned  him 
self  to  an  uncompleted  education  with  perfect 
composure:  until  he  decided  that  lor  a  broad 
ening  ot  pure  worldly  knowledge  there  is  no 
thing  like  travel,  especially  in  the  direction  ot 
Paris. 

Mvnheer  and  Mevrouw  were  so  exhausted 
by  the  mere  sivdit  ot  seeing  their  son  enjoy 
life  that  they  consented  with  alacrity,  their 
only  condition  bemv;  that  he  must  take  old 
(iimborn  with  him  on  his  travels. 

In  the  days  when  Mynheer  de  Kock  was  a 
magnate  in  the  k.a^t  India  trade,  (iimborn 
traveled  for  the  house  in  t  ie  spice  and  coftee 
line.  \O\\-  he  shaved  Mynheer,  ran  his  er 
rands,  and  was  the  medium  through  which 


THE    COURTING    OF    JUFFROUW  VAN    LOO      9 

worldly  gossip  reached  his  master's  ears. 
Mynheer  had  such  a  respect  for  his  shrewd 
ness  that  he  was  bestowed  on  Bentinck  as 
a  precious  talisman  to  shield  him  from  de 
struction.  Mynheer  de  Kock  saw  his  son  and 
his  mentor  start  safely  off,  and  then  he  imme 
diately  went  to  bed  and  slept  an  untroubled 
sleep,  which  might  have  been  less  peaceful 
had  he  been  aware  that,  after  traveling  in 
great  harmony  for  two  hours,  Bentinck  parted 
from  old  Gimborn  and  a  well-filled  purse  at  a 
very  pleasing  watering-place  which  Gimborn 
always  wished  to  visit,  while  Mynheer  Ben 
tinck  proceeded  to  face  alone  the  dangers  of  a 
higher  education  in  Paris. 

For  three  months  Mynheer  and  Mevrouw 
de  Kock  and  the  black  poodle  reveled  in  pro 
found  repose.  But  the  blissful  dream  came 
to  an  end.  A  letter  to  Mynheer  from  a  serious 
friend  in  Paris  recommended  that  young  Ben 
tinck  be  speedily  recalled  home,  because  — 
here  followed  a  communication  which  all  but 
made  his  wig  stand  on  end.  He  stared  at  the 
missive  with  its  great  seals  ;  he  would  have 
turned  redder  had  that  been  possible;  then 
he  dashed  the  epistle  on  the  window-sill  with  a 
bang  that  petrified  Mevrouw  and  the  poodle. 


io  KITXVVK    STOK1KS 

"  \\  hat  ?  "    Mevrouw  stammered. 
"What?" 

••  Hentinck  ?  "  Mevrouw  continued,  with,  tor 
her,  frightful  loquacity. 

"  In-ntinck  .J      Ves,    Hentinck  !  "     and    Myn 
heer  thrust  the    letter   into    the  deepest   pocket 

ot  his  dressing- gown.  "And  now,  Mevrouw 
de  I\oc:k  —  now  that  your  son  has  seen  the 
world,  the  question  is,  blexem!  how  to  make 
him  forget  it." 

In  two  weeks  the  reluctant  lientinck  re 
turned  in  company  with  the  broken  reed  on 
which  he  had  leaned  to  so  little  profit. 

"I  gave  my  son  into  your  keeping,  Gim- 
born,  and  what  have  you  returned  .J"  Mynheer 
demanded. 

(  )ld  Gimborn  coughed,  and  nibbled  at  his 
cap.  'I  he  culprit  passed  the  door  at  that  mo 
ment  whistling  a  time  of  a  God-forsaken  na 
ture.  Mynheer  shuddered,  and  produced  the 
awful  letter. 

"  I  )o  you  see  that,  (iimborn?  I  )id  I  not 
sav  to  you  when  you  started,  '  I  )oor  to  be 
locked  at  nine  every  night  '  ?  " 

Here  \oung  lientinck  sauntered  in.  and 
ga/ed  at  the  letter  as  at  an  old  acquaintance. 

"  M  v n heer,  (  iimborn  is  innocent.      1  he  door 


THE   COURTING    OF    JUFFROUW  VAN    LOO      11 

was  locked  at  nine  every  night.  I  saw  to  it 
myself;  but,  you  see,  there  were  two  doors  to 
the  room,  and  1  am  afraid  I  must  have  <jot 

o 

out  by  the  other." 

"  Young  Mynheer  de  Kock,"— -and  the  old 
gentleman  shook  with  rage, — "you  have  taken 
this  little  journey  into  the  world  on  your  own 
account,  and  now,  blexem  !  you  shall  take  one 
on  mine.  Our  cousin  in  Kitwyk,  at  my  ex 
press  wish,  accepts  you  as  his  guest  for  the 
present.  He  thinks  Kitwyk  may  be  rather 
dull  for  such  a  gay  young  gentleman,  but  go 
you  shall." 

And  so  young  Bentinck  went. 

in 

Ii  Overste  de  Kock  had  an  ideal  in  life, 
it  was  General  Donderkull.  General  Don- 
derkull,  outstretched  in  a  bamboo  loung- 
inir-chair  in  his  Batavian  bungalow,  a  vision 

O  O 

in  white  linen  and  an  apoplectic  counte 
nance,  refreshing  his  martial  soul  with  a 
cool  drink,  was  haunted  by  something,  he; 
did  not  know  what.  It  was  a  very  rare 
occurrence,  as  in  consequence  of  his  high 
position  he  resigned  all  personal  thinking 


12  KITWYK    STORIKS 

to  his  aide-de-camp.      His  adjutant  was  sum 
moned. 

"  \\  hat  did  I  say  to  you  last  ni^ht  at 
quarter  past  ei^ht  ?  " 

"\our  Excellency  was  so  ^ood  as  to  say 
that  you  thought  ot  marrying,  and  that  the 
future  [Excellency  must  be  yoiin<4'  and  pivtt\. 
\  on  further  said  that  you  would  write  to  a 
trie 'nd  in  Holland  who  used  to  buy  your  horses, 
to  choose  a  bride  and  send  her  over.  Io  save 
yourself  trouble,  you  would  marry  her  future 
ladyship  in  I  lolland  by  proxy." 

"  So  I  did,"  his  Excellency  cried  in  hi^h 
L^'ond  humor.  "  \  on  shall  write  the  letter, 
and  I  will  siLMi  it.  '1  ell  (  )verste  de  Kock  ot 
I\it\\-yk  to  send  me  a  bride  at  once.  \  on 
know  just  what  I  want,  and  —  and-  '  here 
his  Excellency  was  lost  in  thought — "I  think 
!)«•  Kock  once  had  a  sister,  though  I  'm  not 
sure.  At  all  events,  present  my  respectful 
compliments;  there  may  be  such  a  person." 

(  )\i;  autumn  day  Kitwyk  was  stirred  to  its 
center  by  the  announcement  that  (  )verste  d<- 
IMH  k  had  recci\"ed  t\\o  letters  in  one  day. 

'1  he  next  morning,  as  [ullrouw  de  Kock 
was  trying  wattles,  he  appearedi  in  hi^'h  ^ood 
humor. 


THE    COURTING    OF    JUFFROUW  VAN    LOO      13 

"  So  they  all  need  you,  Overstc  dc  Kock  ! 
The  rich  DC  Kock  of  Amsterdam  as  well  as 
the  great  General  Donderkull !  " 

"  From  whom  is  the  other  letter,  Cornells  ?  " 

"From  General  Donderkull,"  and  he  drew 
himself  up  and  saluted. 

"  What  —  what  —  does  he  want  ?  " 

"The  old  ass  —  I  speak  now  in  a  purely 
civil  sense,  Juffromv — wants  to  marry.  What 
are  you  smiling'  at?" 

"  So  he  has  not  forgotten." 

"  Forgotten  what  ?  " 

"  Forgotten  me,"  and  a  faint  glo\v  crept  up 
her  cheek. 

"  And  what  have  you  to  do  with  it  ?  It  is  n't 
such  as  you  he  wants.  He  wants  youth  and 
beauty,  ha  !  ha  !  lie  leaves  it  all  to  me.  I 
am  to  choose  her  and  marry  her,  for  he  can 
not  come  over  here,  and  she  is  to  be  sent  to 
Java  without  delay." 

So,  while  Overste  de  Kock,  with  a  sense  of 
new  importance,  stalked  down  to  the  village 
in  search  of  a  bride  for  his  Fxccllency,  Jtif- 
frouw  de  Kock  raked  together  the  cinders  of 
two  burnt  waffles  immolated  on  the  shrine 
of  memory. 

When  Overste  de  Kock  appeared,  his  prog- 


14  KITYVYK    STORIHS 

ress  was  like  a  triumphal  procession.  Fathers 
lured  him  into  \\illiam  the  Silent,  he  was 
courtesied  to  at  tin:  distance  of  halt  a  mile,  his 
health  was  a  suliject  ol  frantic  interest,  and  the 
next  Sunday  at  church  he  eclipsed  in  interest 
even  the  ne\v  candidate,  and  when  the  school 
master  struck  up  the  hymn, 

To  Thee  from  whom  ;ill  l>lcs>inu--  flow. 

every  maternal  eye  was  steadily  set  in  the  di 
rection  ot  (  )verste  de  I\ock. 

1'or  the  lirst  time  1  en  Brink  was  overrun 
with  visitors.  So  lull  were  the  rooms  ot  as 
pirants  for  the  hand  of  ( ieiieral  Donderkull 
that  one  day,  when  the  ^reat  Mevrouw  van 
Loo  was  announced,  there  was  not  an  inch  ot 
room  tor  her.  A  yellow  chariot  with  a  Mack 

hood     deposited     her     at     the     old     toot   bridge. 

\\hile  the  youth  ot  Ivitwyk,  in  nightcap  and 
wooden  shoes,  looked  admiringly  on,  and 
traced  with  then"  dirty  torelm^vrs  the  noble 
crot  ot  the  \  an  Loos  on  the  chariot  door. 

In  this  strait  her  ladyship  was  shown  to  the 
banquetin^-hall  ol  'I  en  Brink.  She  resolutely 
ignored  the  I  )e  Kock's  undergarments  han^"- 
inv;'  up  to  dry,  tor  she  was  above  everything  a 
mother. 


THE   COURTING    OF    JUFFROUW  VAN    LOO      15 

So  close  they  sat,  she  and  the  captain,  that 
her  bird  of  paradise  all  but  nipped  his  wig, 
while  the  linen  flapped  softly  about  them.  No 
one  will  ever  know  the  details  of  this  inter- 
vie\v,  but  before  long-  a  rumor  dashed  the  bud 
ding  hopes  of  Kitwyk  that  Overste  de  Kock 
had  selected  young  Janet  van  Loo  to  be  the 
future  Excellency  Donderkull. 


IV 


Youxfr  Janet  van  Loo  was  reared  by  her 
parent  as  if  that  estimable  woman  had  not  been 
a  mother,  but  a  drum-major.  Every  morning- 
she  was  terrified  out  of  a  sound  sleep  by  a 
L>-oni>-  which  had  been  brought  from  China 

<z>          *j>  o 

years  before  by  a  Van  Loo  without  nerves. 
In  the  Spanish  days  some  old  Van  Loo  had 
probably  been  a  traitor  to  traditions,  and  loved 
where  he  should  have  hated  ;  and  one  fine  day 
-for  crime  will  out  —  the  old  Spanish  type 
reappeared  with  tragic  dark  eyes,  midnight 
hair,  and  a  mouth  curved  to  a  wistful  beauty, 
in  the  face  of  a  young  Dutch  maid,  with  a  lace 
cap  on  her  dusky  locks,  and  under  it  a  golden 
helmet  worn  by  the  ladies  Van  Loo  since  be 
fore  the  days  of  Philip  II. 


16  KITWYK    STORIKS 

Janet  \'an  Loo  recognized  in  her  heart  only 
a  strictly  necessary  or^an  ;  \\hile  as  lor  love, 
Heaven  and  Mcvrouw  forbid! 

At  this  time  an  extraordinary  event  took 
place  in  l\it\\yk  —  the  ladies  ol  Kitwyk  ap 
peared  mornings  at  the  pump  without  their 
nightcaps  ! 

And  the  cause?  \\Y11,  the  cause  lolled 
gracefully  in  the  porch  of  William  the  Silent, 
ins  cocked  hat  rather  back  on  his  handsome 
head.  Such  a  youn^  and  gallant  stranger! 
1  he  gentlemen  ol  Kitwyk  were;  mostly  elderly, 
and  the  stray  examples  ol  youth  were  ol  a 
heavy  pattern  \vho  would  do  to  marry,  ol 
course,  but  with  whom  no  one  ever  tell  in 
love. 

AloiiLJ  the  mansion  ol  fonkheervan  Loo  ran 
a  deep  canal.  A  solt  breeze  rippled  its  quiet 
surface,  and  swayed  the  brakes  and  reeds  and 
willow-bushes  alon^  its  banks,  and  tinkled 
the  bells  ol  the  Chinese  pagoda.  In  the  pa 
L^oda,  in  the  arm-chair  of  jonkheer  van  1 ,00,  sat 
his  only  dau ^hte]-  knitting  and  deej)  in  thought. 
She  looked  up  at  sound  ol  her  name.  loin 
I  )elre-"L(e  stood  in  the  doorway,  and  there  was 
a  coquettish  tilt  to  her  cap  which  troubled 
Mistress  van  Loo.  Her  dark-blue  -'"own  was 


THE    COURTING    OF    JUFFROUW  VAN    LOO      17 

discreetly  short,  and  so  were  the  sleeves 
caught  below  the  elbow,  while  the  linen  ker 
chief  crossed  on  her  breast  revealed  the  sweet 
est  round  throat ;  and  when  she  laughed  she 
threw  back  her  head,  and  one.  saw  two  da/- 
/ling  rows  of  little  teeth  —  and  Juffrouw  I)e- 
fregge  was  just  seventeen.  She  was  palpitat 
ing  with  important  information. 

"  How  I  have  hurried,  Janet !  Never  have  I 
seen  one  so  handsome  and  with  such  an  air — " 

"  So  you  have  seen  him,  Toni  ?" 

Mistress  Defregge's  face  fell. 

"  Why,  then  you  've  seen  him  too,  and  never 
told  me  ! 

"Why  should  you  care?  lie  has  been 
here  a  week.  Has  he  not  lovely  feathers?  " 

"Janet,  of  whom  are  you  talking?" 

" 'Of  our  new  rooster." 

''Janet,  I  speak  of  a  young  man." 

"  Is  that  all !  " 

"  You  don't  know  what  you  are  talking 
about." 

Juffrouw  van  Loo  was  placidly  nettled. 
"What  is  there  to  see  in  a  young  man? 
I  lave  I  not  my  father?  If  he  wore  teeth  like 
Mevrouw  van  Laan  and  had  his  hair,  would 
he  not  be;  a  young  man  ?" 


iS  KITWYK    STORIES 

"  That  is  not  enough,  Janet.  This  yoiin^- 
Mynheer  is  tall  and  most  sweetly  thin;  we 
met  at  tin:  pump,  and  he  looked  at  me  so," 
and  Toni  I  Vlre^e  threw  a  languishing  glance 
at  the  \  an  Loo  call  that  strolled  into  view. 
"  I  took  the  pump-handle,  but  before  I  could 
move  it  he  was  beside  me.  Saul  he,  \\ith 
such  a  bow,  such  a  sweep  ol  his  hat,  —  and, 
Janet,  such  a  hat  !-—' Permit  me  to  serve  you, 
lair  Jullrouw.'  lie  pumped  with  such  sweet 
LH'ace  !  Whereupon  1  drank  slowly,  \\ith  one 
eye  cast  down  as  beseems  a  maid,  but  with 
the  other  I  peeped  over  the  mui^.  What 
clothes  !  Then  he  takes  the  dipper,  and  drinks 
ri^'ht  alter  me,  and  does  so" — here  [ulfrouw 
|  )(.|,-(. ^o'c  unburdened  herself  ol  a  prodigious 
si-h. 

"  lie  was   not   a   cleanly    youu^    man,"    Jut 
frou\\-  van  Loo  remarked  with  conviction. 

"  I  b-  said  it  tastetl  all  the  sweeter;  you  do 
not  understand,  these  things,  Janet." 

"Oh  — oh!" 

Mistress  Defreeze  looked  at  her  shoe- 
buckle.  "It  would  be  very  pleasant  to  love 
such  a  \~oun LJ'  Mvnheer. 


"  I  should   like  to  love    such  a  youne;    Myn 
heer." 


THE   COURTING    OF    JUFFROUW   VAN    LOO       19 

"  Well,  why  don't  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  how  to  bemn." 

O 

"Ask  your  father.  lie  is  Burgomaster;  he 
ought  to  know.  But  why  do  you  wish  to  love 
a  stranger  when  you  have  your  father  ?  " 

"  Janet,"  Toni  whispered,  "  it  would  be  very 
pleasing  if  he  should  like  me,  too." 

"  But  why  should  he  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  only  I  have  heard  that 
young  maids  and  young  men  do  sometimes 
like  each  other." 

"  Have  you,  Toni  ?  I  will  ask  mother  ;  she 
will  know." 

"  Janet,  if  you  ever  marry,  would  you  rather 
he  'd  be  young  or  old  ?  " 

"  It  makes  no  difference,  Toni ;  only  he 
must  be  just  like  papa." 

"Janet,  I  would  rather  mine  were  not  at  all 
like  my  father." 

"  Toni,  that  is  wicked  !  " 

"  I  cannot  help  it.  Ever  since  the  pump  I 
think  of  things  that  I  never  dreamed  of  be 
fore.  Janet,  do  you  believe  that  Mevrouw, 
your  mother,  ever  loved  Jonkheer  van  Loo, 
your  father  ?  " 

Janet  looked  unspeakably  shocked. 

"  Oh,  Toni,  never  !" 


20  KITWYK    STOKIKS 

"A  foolish  question.  I  should  have  kno\\n. 
It  is,  ot  course,  the  people  \\lio  do  not  marry 
who  love  each  other." 

i'or  tile  first  time  in  her  lite  jutTromv  van 
Loo  wondered.  Two  days  after,  she  thus  ad 
dressed  her  mother  : 

"Mother,  were  you  ever  in  love  with 
father?" 

\\  ho  c\in  describe  the  resentment,  the  con 
sternation,  of  that  superior  woman  ! 

"In  love  with  your  father?  Who  has 
dared—  Mevrouw  gasped  for  breath. 

"  I'oni  I  )elre^e  wishes  to  love  a  youn^' 
Mynheer,  and  am  I  not  as  old  as  she  is?  It 
is  time  that  I  did,  for  it  1  marry  I  shall  have 
no  more  chance."  Whereupon  Mevrouw  felt 
truly  that  the  ^'reat  round,  level  earth  had 
Lj'iven  wav  under  her. 


Two  youn^'  maids  met  near  the  pump. 
"  |anet,  there  he  is  ! 
"Who,  Toni?" 

"You    dull    thin--1      The   youn^    Mynheer. 
In  the  tavern  porch.      Are  you  looking?" 
"  Y-ves.  Toni." 


THE    COURTING    OF    JUFFROUW  VAN    LOO      21 

"  Is  he  not  a  dream  of  a  young  Mynheer?  " 

"I  —  I — how  can  I  tell?  Let  me  fill  my 
pail." 

"Why,  Janet,  what  ails  you?" 

"  Nothing,  Toni,  only  it  hardly  befits  a 
maid  to  stare  at  a  strange  young"  man  as 
you  do.  He  feels  it  to  be  wrong,  and  he 
is 


£,     4i&' 

Mistress   van   Loo   was    mistaken.      So   far 

was  young  Mynheer  de  Kock  from  recogniz 
ing  the  impropriety  of  Mistress  Defregge's 
conduct,  that  he  strolled  over  to  the  pump  and 
inundated  her  pail  with  crystal-clear  water 
until  it  threatened  Mistress  Defregge's  high- 
heeled  shoes.  And  such  a  pretense  as  she 
made  to  raise  her  pail,  and  fail,  whereupon  he 
gallantly  came  to  her  aid,  and  so  they  carried 
it  off  between  them,  she  looking  at  him  round 
the  dangling  gold  fretwork  on  her  cheek. 
Never  was  there  a  pail  that  reached  its  desti 
nation  so  empty,  and  Juffrouw  van  Loo,  look 
ing  after,  grieved  for  the  wasted  water,  and 
then  with  a  sigh  went  slowly  home. 

Her  mother  stood  at  the  door  of  the  best 
room.  "Come  in,  Janet;  I  have  something 
very  pleasant  to  tell  you."  Never  before  had 
Mevrouw  spoken  to  her  in  such  gentle  tones. 


22  K1TYVYK    STnKlKS 

It  was  the  sacred  room  trom  which  all  Van 
Loos  were  married  or  buried.  'I  hree  centu 
ries  ot  them  looked  down  trom  the  chilly  walls. 
An  oak  table  imprisoned  a  sola  upon  which  it 
was  an  honor  but  not  a  joy  to  sit,  and  twelve 
ri^id  chairs  punctuated  the  apartment.  The 
slippery  floor  represented  the.  unfaltering  en 
ergy  of  the  ladies  \  an  Loo,  while  a  white- 
tiled  stove  in  a  corner  was  capable  oi  striking 
a  chill  to  the  brightest  tire. 

(  )verste  de  Ivock  sat  in  the  seat  ot  honor 
on  the  sofa,  while  fonkheer  van  Loo  drummed 
a  perplexed  tune  on  the  polished  table,  \vhere- 
ii]  K  m  Mevrouw  scowled. 

(  )\-erste  de  Kock  broke  the  silence.  "  1  )o 
you  wonder  \\'hy  we  wish  to  speak  to  you,  my 
child?" 

"  [uffrotuv  \'an  Loo  never  wonders." 

"You  are  n^'ht,  as  always,  Mevrouw  van 
Loo.  Let  us  put  it  differently.  Have  you 
ever  thought  ot  marrying,  fuffrouw?" 

"  Pardon  me.  Mynheer.  fuffrouw  van  Loo 
has  never  been  allowed  to  consider  such  — 
such  —  such  tnv<  dities." 

"  1  hen   in    I  leaven's  name  manage  it  your 
sell,   Mevrouw  ! 


THE   COURTING    OF    JUFFROUW  VAN    LOO      23 

A  flush  crept  up  to  Juffrouw  van  Loo's  lace 
cap,  and  her  heart  beat  fast. 

"  Janet,"- -Mevrouw  undertook  the  task 
with  no  waste  of  sentiment, —  "your  hand  has 
been  asked  in  marriage,  and  we  have  given 
our  consent.  It  is  a  good  match  even  for  a 
\  an  Loo,  and  it  was  all  owing"  to  your  mother, 
child,  that  the  choice  did  not  fall  on  that  minx 
Toni  I  )efregge.  What  have  you  to  say, 
Janet?" 

Juffrouw   van   Loo   Hushed,    hesitated,    then 
spoke;,  hanging   her  head,  "  Mother,  is  —  is— 
he  young ?  " 

'"And  may  I  ask,  Juffrouw  van  Loo,  what 
that  is  to  you  ?  " 

"Nothing  —  nothing,"  she  murmured,  and 
listened  absently  to  the  biography  of  General 
I  )onderkull,  while  her  ill-regulated  mind  would 
stray  to  the  market-place,  where  two  sauntered 
across  the  cobblestones  in  the  morning  sun 
light,  a  water-pail  between  them,  and  the 
water  splashing,  while  the  young  Mynheer 
looked  down  into  the  eyes  of  his  companion 
with  a  glance  that  hitherto  had  been  ignored 
in  the  education  oi  Juffrouw  van  Loo. 


24  KITWYK    STOKIKS 


Yor\<;  Bentinck  de  Kock  li;ul  been  ex 
pected  l>y  Overste  de  Kock  in  an  attitude  ol 
armed  neutrality. 

On  a  misty,  early  autumn  day  —  the  castle 
moat  was  choked  with  leaves  —  there  \vas  a 
knock  at  the  front  door,  and  [ullrouw  de 
Kock  found  a  gallant  youn^  man  reposing  on 
the  chintx  cushions  ol  the  settle,  who  examined 
the  simple  outlines  ot  Kitwyk  with  a  rueful 
visage. 

1  Ie  sprang  to  his  leet. 

"I  know  who  you  arc1;  you  are  Hetje  de 
Kock,  and  I  am  a  black  sheep  sent  out  to 
pasture — I  am  Bentinck  de  Kock." 

(  )verste  de  Kock  received  the  black  sheep 
sternly.  "  Xone  ot  your  tricks  here,  youn^" 
man,  blexem  !  I  he  ways  ot  Paris  and  Kit 
wyk  are  not  the  same." 

"As  it  I  did  n't  know  !"  and  youn^'  Myn 
heer  remembered  the  cobblestones  ot  Kitwyk. 

"All  the  same,"  Overste  de  Kock  be^an, 
then  interrupted  himselt.  "\\hat  are  you 
staring  at,  futtrouw  de  Kock?  ( 10  and  air 
VOUIIL;"  Bentinck's  bed." 

The  L!'«<>d  ladv  retired  most  unwillinL'l\-. 


THE    COURTING    OF    JUFFROUW  VAN    LOO      25 

"  And  now,  Bentinck,  as  between  man  and 
man,  what  about  Paris  ?  " 

Juttrouw  de  Kock  lived  in  a  dream.  To 
her  young"  Bentinck  was  a  realization  of  old 
fancies,  while  Overste  de  Kock  never  tired 
of  the  young'  rascal's  accounts  of  those  sinful 
Paris  days.  I  le  roared,  and  he  beat  his  thin 
knees,  and  his  eyes  overflowed  with  innocent 
admiration. 

"And  that  fool  of  a  De  Kock  of  Amster 
dam  cannot  appreciate  this  paragon  of  a  boy! 
God  forgive  him  !  "  he  cried. 

To  please  her  young  idol,  Juifrouw  de  Kock 
evolved  culinary  miracles,  and  the  result  was 

J 

gout,  at  least  for  the  captain,  and  the  very 
day  he  lay  helpless,  swathed  in  flannel,  there 
came  to  him  a  package  from  Java.  It  was  a 
miniature  painted  on  ivory,  and  attached  to 
a  fine  gold  necklace. 

"  For  my  bride,"  General  Donderkull  wrote 
placidly,  "  a  betrothal  present.  I  wish  the 
betrothal  and  wedding  to  take  place  at  once." 

"The  old  fool  wants  to  be  married  at  once-, 
and  how  can  he  when  I  am  laid  up  with  the 
gout  ? " 

"And — and — what  is  that?"  asked  his 
sister. 


2(>  KITWYK    SToKIKS 

"  Hie  old  idiot's  picture.  A  present  tor  his 
bride  —  u^h  !  " 

"    Let   llle   See   it." 

A  fat  mail  \vith  a  pear-shaped  head  deep 
set  between  his  shoulders,  a  scarlet  lace,  a  lit 
tle  po\vdered  u'l^',  a  tiidit  uiiitonii,  and  no  end 
ot  buttons.  She  stroked  it  gently,  and  sighed. 

"  Cornells,"  she  spoke  at  last,  "  may —  may 
—  I  brine;  her  the  picture?  1  —  I  should  like 
to  o-ive  her  a  little  happiness,  though  she  has 
si  >  m  uch. 

"  [uttrotuv  de  Kock,  \<>u  are.  undoubtedly 
mad." 

She  made  ereat  [(reparations.  Wearing  an 
old  brocaded  black  silk  that  had  been  her 
mother's,  and  about  her  shoulders  a  crape 
scarf,  and  her  coal-scuttle  bonnet  over  her 
best  cap,  and  with  an  embroidered  reticule  on 
her  arm,  she  passed  the  kitchen. 

Youiie;  lientinck,  drumming  idly  on  the 
window,  sprang  down  the  steps  alter  her. 

"  Ma\'  1  e;o  with  YOU.  (  ousm   Betje? 

11  Xot  this  time,  Hentinck.  I  L;"O  only  to 
juttrouw  \'an  l.oos.  I  —  I  —  nave  a  message 
lor  her." 

"The  YOUIIL;  maid  \\ith  the  strange,  d.irk 
e\  es  J.  \\  as  there  ever  siu'h  a  1  Mitch  maid  ! 


TIIK    COURTING    OF    JUFFROUW  VAN    LOO      27 

"  She  is  indeed  very  beautiful." 
"And  this  beautiful  young  maid  is  willing 
to   marry  an   old   man,  I   hear." 

"  A  man  so  great  has  a  ri^ht  to  youth  and 

O  O  J 

beauty,"  she  said  proudly  as  she  turned  away. 

Tin:  old  woman  took  both  the  girl's  hands, 
and  gazed  at  her  with  wistful  eyes. 

"You  have  so  much  happiness,  dear  child; 
but  I  wish  a  little  to  come  from  me.  It  is  only 
the  whim  of  an  old  woman." 

"And  what  makes  you  think  I  am  so 
happy,  Juffrouw  de  Kock  ?  " 

"A  young  girl,  just  betrothed  to  so  great 
and  distinguished  a  man,"  Juffrouw  said  under 
her  breath. 

"That  ma)-  well  be,  but  I  do  not  know 
him." 

"  But  when  you  do  know  him  —  see,  I  have 
brought  what  in  all  the  world  you  will  prize 
most — his  picture,  which  he  sends  to  you, 
my  child.  I  begged  to  be  allowed  to  bring  it 
to  you  because  of — of — is  it  not  noble?"  she 
asked  tremulously. 

"  And  — and  is  that  he?" 

"  Yes,  dear  child ;  that  is  he.  Is  he  not 
splendid  ?  " 


28  KITWYK    STURIKS 

"And  I  —  I  am  to  marry  this  del  man?'' 
I  he  u'irl  hid  her  tact:  on  tin-  sacred  table  as 
if  tears  could  not  stain;  and  the  miniature 
of  General  1  )onderkull  tell  on  the  floor. 

In  an  instant  the  other  picked  up  the  pic 
ture,  and  rubbed  it  with  awe-struck  hands. 

"  \Yhat  ails  you,  child?" 

"I  —  I  will  not  marry  him,  Xo;  I  will  not 
-  never  —  never ! 

"  \  on  will  not  marry  what?"  and  in  the1 
doorway  loomed  Mevrouw  her  mother. 

"\\hat  have  you  in  your  hands,  [uftrouw 
de  Kock?" 

"It  is  the  miniature-  of  —  of  (  ieiieral  l)on- 
derkull  —  a  !_dft  to  his  betrothed." 

"How  tine  a  man,  and  how  prosperous  he 
looks,  and  was  there  ever  a  handsomer  iM'ld 
setting?  And  it  seems  to  me,  fanet,  as  if  his 
Excellency  has  a  look  of  your  father." 

"He  looks  just  like  papa,"  futtrouw  van 
Loo  cried  in  a  burst  of  ^ricf.  And  who  can 
account  tor  the  inconsistencies  of  the  human 
heart  when  that  which,  a  tew  weeks  before, 
Juftrouw  van  Loo  considered  an  essential  to  a 
happy  marriage,  now  nearly  broke  her  heart  .J 


THE    COURTING    OF   JUFFROUW   VAN    LOO      29 
VII 

JUFFROUW  VAX  Loo's  consent  being  of  no 
consequence,  it  was  decided  that  the  betrothal 
was  to  take  place  at  once,  followed  by  the 
marriage ;  then  she  was  to  sail  for  Java  as 
soon  as  possible. 

Juffrouw  Rozenboom,  the  one  milliner  and 
dressmaker  of  Kitwyk,  had  to  sew  day  and 
night  to  complete  the  toilets.  There  were 
those  who  remarked  that  Juffrouw  Rozen- 
boom's  creations  bore  a  striking  resemblance 
to  each  other. 

Overste  de  Kock  unearthed  his  uniform  to 
do  honor  to  his  position  as  proxy  bridegroom, 
and  he  looked  very  grand,  and  smellcd 
strongly  of  camphor. 

It  was  the  last  autumn  day,  and  a  frost  had 
touched  the  garden  flowers,  the  falling  leaves 
whirled  along  the  cobblestones,  and  the  chest 
nut  trees  about  the  church  were  bare.  In 
the  mansion  of  Van  Loo  there  was  a  sense  of 
solemn  festivity.  In  a  grim  myrtle  arbor  at 
the  head  of  the  grim  best  room  were  placed 
two  forbidding  chairs.  In  one  sat  Juffrouw 
van  Loo,  waiting  for  the  representative  of 
the  L>Tcat  General  Donderkull.  There  was  a 


30  KI  I  \VVK    STMKIKS 

commendable  absence  of  joy.  and  tin-  Van 
Loos  present  were  so  old  and  interior  that 
the  miniature  ot  (ieneral  Donderkull  reposing 
on  the  breast  ot  the  bride  gained  by  contrast. 

A  disapproving  murmur  trom  the  Van  Loos 
was  distinctly  audible  as  the  door  opened. 

"  fanet.  this  is  a  most  unexpected  change; 
Imt  as  the  Burgomaster  is  waiting,  we  will 

^()-" 

[uttromv  van    Loo   looked  up  with  supreme 

inditference  ;    then  her  heart  stopped  beating, 

and  then  it  beat  like  a  hammer,  \\hen-  was 
( )verste  de  I\ock  ?  \Vhat  business  had  he 
here  whose  brown  eves  looked  into  hers  lor 
the  tirst  time  with  such  pity?  A  ^'reat  red 
(lush  swept  over  her  pale  face,  and  tor  a  mo 
ment  the  miniature  ot  (ieneral  I  )onderkull 
had  an  uneasy  resting-place. 

"  My  cousin  was  suddenly  taken  ill,"  Heii- 
tmck  explained,  "and  my  unworthy  sell  he 
chose  to  take  his  place,  and  that  —  that  —  ot 
the  happy  - 

1  lere  he  e^a/ed  at  the  old  face  in  the  minia 
ture,  and  then  once  a^ain  into  the  dark  eyes 
that  met  his  with  a  glance  of  defiance. 

So  it  was.  Captain  de  Kock  was  stricken 
with  the  L^'ont.  and  postponement  was  impos- 


• 
"-  •  i  -  - 

-."•/-'-«    -Xfe 

* 


vr^  i 


*; 

v<  »  • 
***  ,^  •     .^-*i 

»  . 


VSl 


THE    COURTING    OF    JUFFROUW  VAN    LOO      31 

sible,  for  who  can  tell  when  a  gout-afflicted 
man  will  be  released  from  his  foe  ? 

"  Let  young"  Bentinck  take  my  place,"  he 
roared  in  pain  ;  and  so  Mynheer  de  Rock  was 
reluctantly  ushered  into  the  presence  of  his 
temporary  bride,  who  laid  her  little  cold  hand 
in  his,  and,  followed  by  the  Van  Loos,  they 
crossed  the  market-place  to  the  town  hall, 
where  they  declared  their  marriage  intentions 
in  due  form,  and  for  the  first  time  in  his  life 
General  Donderkull  appeared  in  the  person 
of  a  young  and  gallant  man. 

In  the  myrtle  arbor  young  Bentinck  whis 
pered,  "  You  are  now  my  betrothed,  so  at 
least  I  may  kiss  your  hand,  Juitrouw,"  and 
his  brown  eyes  flashed  as  he  bent  his  head, 
while  the  roses  swept  to  the  golden  bangles 
against  her  cheek,  and  she  said  not  a  word, 
only  watched  him,  her  lips  parted. 

So  they  sat  side  by  side  in  the  myrtle 
prison,  and  the  Van  Loos  present  filed  past. 
The  first  day  there  was  a  rosy  flush  in  Juf- 
frouw  van  Loo's  face  and  her  eyes  sparkled, 
and  as  Mevrouw  made  a  parting  courtesy  of  a 
gorgeous  nature  to  a  Van  Loo  much  greater 
and  richer  than  herself,  she'  shuddered  at  the 
sound  of  a  gay  young  laugh. 


32  KITWYK    STOK1F.S 

i  lei'  prophetic  ry<'  darted  toward  the  myrtle 
arbor,  and  discovered  youn^"  Mynheer  look 
in^"  at  his  bride  with  a  glance  most  undesira 
ble  in  a  temporal'}'  bridegroom,  while  the 
bride  smiled  and  played  with  her  tan,  and 
both  were  supremely  indifferent  to  a  shoal  of 
\"an  Loos  blocked  before  them  and  bursting 
with  congratulations  to  which  no  one  listened. 
At  sound  of  her  mother's  voice  the  bride 
turned  pale,  and  at  that  moment  Mevrouw, 
to  her  horror,  made.:  another  discovery:  the 
miniature  of  the  worthy  general  had  disap 
peared.  She  waited  till  the  last  \  an  Loo  was 
bowed  out,  and  then  she  asked,  "  \\  here  is  the 
picture  of  your  bridegroom  ?  " 

"  It  tired  my  thro.it,  and  1  took  it  off,"  and 
out  of  the  back  of  the  chair  she  produced  that 
work  of  art. 

"  And  is  this  how  you  treat  the  portrait 
of  your  distinguished  husband,  you  wicked 
-irf?" 

"  l)iit,  mother,  he  is  not  my  husband  yet, 
thank  I  leaven  ' 

Mevrouw  van  Loo  sta^'ered  back  in 
horror. 

"Put  it  on  instantly1  \\hat  will  people 
sav  !  This  is — is  —  a  scandal' 


THK    COURTING    OF    JUFFROUW  VAN    LOO      33 

Juffrouw  van  Loo  turned  still  paler,  and 
Mynheer  de  Kock  rose  with  such  haste  that 
he  kicked  over  his  myrtle-crowned  chair. 

"  Mevrouw  van  Loo,"  said  her  daughter, 
"  I  am  tired  of  seeing  this  good  man's  face. 
It  will  be  my  fate  to  see  it  for  the  rest  of  my 
life ;  be  pleased,  therefore,  to  let  me  forget 
the  sight  of  it  for  at  least  these  two  weeks." 

Mevrouw  shook  to  her  bird  of  paradise. 
"  Put  it  on  instantly  !  "  and  with  her  own  un 
gentle  hands  she  clasped  the  gold  chain  about 
her  daughter's  throat.  Juffrouw  van  Loo 
gazed  at  the  medallion.  She  held  a  fan  in 
her  hand,  and  the  ivory  sticks  broke  with  a 
sudden  snap. 

"  Mother,  believe  me,  it  would  be  better  if 
—  if  I  did  not  see  it  these  days." 

"  I  say  you  shall  —  every  day." 

It  did  seem  as  if  the  painted  Van  Loos 
gazed  down  on  her  with  growing  disfavor,  as 
if  they  suspected  in  their  painted  minds  that 
a\  an  Loo  so  disgracefully  Spanish  must  take 
after  that  treacherous  ancestor  who  had  shown 
himself  so  unworthy  of  his  race  in  having  a 
heart.  Perhaps  it  was  the  bride's  imagina 
tion,  but  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  the  good  peo 
ple  who  offered  their  congratulations  gazed 


U  KITWVK    STOKIKS 

curiously  at  that  red  lace  on  her  breast,  and 
threw  contrasting  glances  at  \oun^  Mynh<-<T 
de  Kock.  \\  ho,  as  the  days  passed,  !_n~ew  more 
silent  and  unsmiling.  \\'hen  his  duties  were 
over,  and  he  returned  to  Ten  Brink,  not  a 
word  could  the  captain  or  his  sister  _^et  out 
ot  him,  hut  he  paced  his  room  halt  the  ni^'ht, 
to  the  dismay  ot  the  old  woman. 

Two  days  l>ctore  the  wedding,  when  Kit- 
wyk  awoke,  a  black  trost  had  struck  the 
ditches  and  canals.  The  meadows  had 
turned  a  russet-brown,  and  the  herds  were 
lowing  in  the  barns,  while  the  win^s  of  the 
windmills  swun^"  as  it  tor  warmth.  I  he  sky 
was  blue,  and  the  sun  shone  clear,  while  the 
wind  cut  like  a  lash,  [uttrouw  van  Loo  stood 
at  the  window,  L^a/in^'  wistlully  out  where  a 
stretch  of  the  Kitwyk  canal  lay  Iro/en  stilt"  be 
tween  the  bare  willow-bushes  and  the  dry 
reeds,  as  the  door  opened  and  voting  Myn 
heer  de  Kock  appeared,  his  tace  a^'low  with 
bulletin^'  the  A\ind. 

"Come  out  with  me,  [ullrouw  Janet,"  he 
ur^'ed,  "and  gather  roses  tor  your  cheeks." 

"  It  is  the  last  winter  I  shall  see."  She 
looked  down  at  the  medallion,  and  then  up 
into  his  ea'j'er  tace,  and  tried  to  smile. 


THE    COURTING    OF    JUFFROUW  VAX    LOO      35 

"  I  shall  never  see  again  the  frozen  canal 
where  I  have  skated  so  many  a  time.  And  I 
should  like  to  skate  once  again  before  —  be 
fore — "  she  looked  up  at  him  with  eyes  lull 
of  tears. 

"  If  the  ice  is  strong  enough." 

<j>  <i_> 

"That  is  nothing  to  me." 

O 

"  Xor  to  me.      Let  us  go." 

There  was  one  point  of  the  canal  soonest 
frozen.  The  bride  sat  on  the  bank,  and  the 
bridegroom  strapped  on  the  skates  with  the 
great,  bold  curves,  and  Juffrouw  van  Loo's 
roses  came  back  in  all  their  glory.  She  bur 
ied  her  hands  deeper  in  her  big-  muff,  and  her 
rosy  chin  in  the  long"  black  boa  wound  about 
her  throat.  Over  her  cap  she  wore  a  great 
black  hat,  and  in  its  shade  she  watched  him 
silently  while  he  fastened  the  skates,  the  blood 
tingling'  to  his  curly  brown  hair  as  he  knelt 
before  her.  Was  there  ever  a  fairer  Dutch 
maid,  as  she  Hew  across  the  ice  —  the  click  of 
the  skates,  the  sparkle  of  her  eyes,  and  the 
roses  in  her  cheeks,  and  every  instant  under 
the  full  blue  petticoats  the:  glimpse'  of  a 
buckled  shoe  and  a  red  stocking? 

On  and  on  they  flew,  and  the  light  clasp  of 
their  two  hands  o'rew  closer  and  closer,  and 


;/>  KITWVK    STORIKS 

in  Mil  looking  straight  before  them  their  eyes 
be^an  to  seek  earh  other,  until  their  glances 
met  in  one  passionate  look,  ami  as  it  with  one 
accord  they  crept  closer  and  closer  together, 
ami  at  last,  always  living  like  the  wind,  his 
arm  was  about  her,  and  just  as  they  reached 
the:  shelter  ot  a  willow-tree,  her  head,  cap,  ami 
all,  lay  on  his  breast,  and  Mynheer  de  Kock, 
bending  his  handsome  head,  kissed  the  red 
lips  ot  fultromv  van  Loo  —  once  —  twice  — 
why  count?  —  until  [uttrouw  van  Loo,  with  a 
passionate  sob,  pushed  him  away,  and  cried: 

"And  I  am  to  be  married  in  two  days,  (  md 
f<  u'^ive  me  ! 

Here  the  ice  L^ave  a  frightful  crack,  bein^ 
too  weak  to  uphold  such  passionate  lovers, 
and  they  would  assuredly  have  ^'one  under 
had  not  Hentmck  grasped  the  friendly  willow, 
while  lie  upheld  (ultrouw  van  Loo,  who  trem 
bled  as  it  the  icy  water  had  re-ached  her  poor, 
weak  heart.  lie  lilted  her  to  the  bank,  and 
knelt  before  her  to  unbuckle  the  skates. 

"Take  me  home1  (  )h,  take  me  home!" 
she  cried.  "See  how  unworthy  I  am  to  be  a 
-ond  man's  wile  ! 

"You  unworthy!  O  my  darling!  Only 
m'ive  me  the  ri^'ht  to  call  you  mine." 


THE   COURTING    OF    JUFFROUW   VAN    LOO      37 

"What  right  have  I?"  she  sobbed,  and 
stumbled  to  her  feet.  "  O  Mynheer,  forget 
how  weak  and  wicked  I  have  been,  and  take 
me  home." 

The  sun  curved  toward  the  west,  the  wind 
was  dying'  away.  Not  a  word  did  either 
speak,  but,  as  if  with  one  accord,  they  walked 
apart  in  the  narrow  path  beside  the  canal. 
Only  when  their  eyes  met,  it  was  like  a  mag 
net  to  draw  them  together.  They  passed  the 
turning  windmills,  and  here  and  there  a  barge 
frozen  in  the  canal,  the  skipper  on  deck  sur 
veying  the  situation  with  philosophy  while  he 
[Kitted  at  his  pipe. 

"  "Why  waste  the  road  between  you,  my 
pretty  ones?"  an  ancient  man  called  after 
them. 

"  To-morrow  you  can  skate  to  Rotterdam, 
little  dame,"  another  friendly  soul  roared  at 
them  from  a  barge; ;  "  and  would  n't  I  like  to 
be  the  youm/  Mynheer  to  buckle  on  your 

y  r->  ^  j 

skates?" 

Yes  ;  they  came  back,  and  the  green  ar 
bor  received  them  once  more,  and  Mevrouw 
proved  to  be  a  false  prophet. 


KITWYK    STORIES 


WILLIAM  TIM:  SILK  NT  overflowed  with  rich 
\  an  Loos,  all  gratified  to  be  so  soon  related 
to  the  invat  General  Donderkull. 

And  the-  church  bells  swtin^  lustily  in  honor 
ot  his  wedding-day.  They  cut  the  cold,  clear 
air  until  the  ships  on  the  Ztiyder  Zee,  IHIL;- 
LMUL;  the  shore1,  heard  the:  jang'le. 

I  i IK  wedding  \\'as  over. 

It  was  the  coldest,  clearest  winter  ni^ht. 
The  moon  sailed  hivdi  in  heaven,  aiul  the 
landscape  \vas  an  etching  in  black  and  white. 
'1  he  mansion  of  fonkheer  van  Loo  was  a  hlaxe 
ot  li.Ldit.  Through  the  main  hall,  tiled  with 
blue  deltt  and  hune;  \\-ith  festoons  ot  ever 
green,  through  the  best  room  and  the  living- 
rooms,  the  tables  \\-ere  set  to  the  idory  ot  \  an 
Loo.  <  )n  the  open  hearth  bla/ed  a  tire  ot 
peat  and  wood  that  touched  with  flickering 
li^'ht  the  winding  stairs  down  which  the  bride 
descended,  her  hand  in  l>entinck  de  Kock's, 
l()ll()\\cd  by  all  the  rich  and  vreat  and  hungry 
\  an  I  .oos. 

'I  here  \\-as  little  attention  paid  to  the 
or  to  the  voim1'    M\'iiheer  who  had   so  kind 


THE    COURTING    OF    JUFFROUW  VAN    LOO      39 

filled  the  place  of  that  great  and  absent  man, 
and  so  the  two  under  the  canopy,  being  of  all 
apparently  of  the  least  consequence,  came  ever 
nearer  together,  until  the  white  arm  of  her 

O 

Excellency  touched  the  velvet  sleeve  of  the 
bridegroom.  At  the  sudden  contact,  which 
seemed  to  thrill,  she  turned  white  and  he  red. 
The  greatest  Van  Loo  was  just  deciphering  a 
speech  as  the  bride  dropped  her  lace  hand 
kerchief,  and  the  bridegroom  stooped  to  where 
it  lay  at  her  feet.  How  it  happened  who  can 
tell  ?  but  he  touched  her  hand  under  the  folds 
of  the  heavy  Dutch  damask. 

"  Is  this  to  be  the  end  of  all  our  happiness, 
my  darling  ?  " 

She  looked  down,  and  two  tears  fell  on  her 
folded  hands.  "  It  is  too  late." 

"It  is  not  too  late,"  he  answered  in  pas 
sionate  protest.  "You  are  my  wife;  you 
have  plighted  your  troth  to  me  in  the  sight 
of  God,  and  not  to  that  old  fool,"  and  he 
frowned  at  the  picture  on  young  Mevrouw 
Donderkull's  breast.  "Why  will  you  break 
my  heart  and  wreck  both  our  lives?  It  is  I 
who  am  your  husband  !  I,  Janet — do  you 
hear  me?"  and  he.  leaned  across  the  arm  ol 
her  chair. 


40  KITWYK    STOKIKS 

"  Listen,  love;  I  am  your  husband,  and  not 
that  unknown  old  man  who  bought  you.  It 
your  parents  seek  wealth,  why,  they  shall  be 
satisfied,  tor  the  I  )e  Kocks  of  Amsterdam  are 
rich.  My  darling,  come  with  me  !  Come  with 
me  to  niedit,  dearest!  I  \\ill  brm^'  you  to  my 
parents'  house.  I  will  tell  them  because  ot 
you  I  shall  be  a  better  man  and  a.  better  son, 
and  they  will  love  you." 

"  But  —  but  —  how,"  she  asked  shyly,  "with 
all  the  canals  Iroxen  ?  " 

"  If  a  Dutch  Mynheer  has  skated  to  battle, 
surely  he  can  skate  to  love." 

I'ATK  announces  itself  in  such  various 
shapes.  'I  his  day  it  joined  toward  kitwyk 
in  a  yellow  post chaise.  I  here  was  a  letter 
for  Ten  Brink  demanding  haste,  and  in  the 
process  of  time  the  post-chaise  SWUIIL;"  up  to 
the  foot  bridge  \\here,  forty  years  before,  Ln- 
si'^n  Donderkull  disappeared  forever  out  of 
the  si^ht  of  (uttrouw  de  Kock.  It  was  nine 
o'clock,  and  the  \  an  Loo  banquet  had  lasted 
since  two. 

Two  united  guests  did  not  come,  but  no 
one  missed  them.  Overate  de  kiick  declared 

he    U'Ollld    see    them   before    he    would     !•(>, 


THE    COURTING    OF    JUFFROUW  VAN    LOO      41 

tor  all  the  Van  Loos  had  ignored  him  to  a 
man,  and  Juffrouw  do  Kock  sat  by  the  kitchen 
window  and  looked  out  on  the  meadow.  She 
took  a  withered  flower  out  of  her  Bible,  and 
held  it  over  the  flames  on  the  hearth  ;  but  she 
hesitated,  and  then  put  it  back  a^ain  between 
the  leaves  of  the  book. 

There  was  a  sharp  knock  at  the  door.  A 
o-reat  letter  with  five  black  seals  for  Overste 
de  Kock.  He  tore  it  open,  read  it  like  one 
dazed,  and  the  letter  fell  on  the  floor  between 
them.  Then  Juffrouw  de  Kock  covered  her 
head  with  her  apron,  and  wept  as  she  had  not 
wept  for  forty  years. 

Tin-;  moonlight  fell  over  the  still  garden  of 
Van  Loo,  and  the  shadows  of  the:  bare  trees 
lay  heavy  on  the  narrow  path  by  the  canal 
where  they  stood,  Bentinck  de  Kock  and  the 
young  Excellency  Donderkull,  a  dark  cloak 
over  her  white  wedding-gown.  For  one  mo 
ment  she  hid  her  face  on  his  breast  and 
sobbed. 

"  I  lave  you  the  heart?  "  he  cried,  and  kissed 
her  eyes  and  lips. 

"  Yes;  better  now,  better  so,"  and  she  tore 
herself  out  of  his  clasp. 


42  KI  r\VYK    ST<>R!i;s 

"My  love  —  my  lile--I  cannot  let  you  ^'o. 
Janet,  do  you  not  see  how  I  sutler — " 

"So  you  call  that  sutlerin^.  Mynheei  de 
Ixock  ?  "  and  between  them  loomed  the  cap 
tain.  "And  what  are  you  doine;  here,  |ul- 
In  uiw  \'an  Loo  ?  " 

"Hush,  Cornells!  It  was  Jultrouw  de 
Kock's  gentle  voice.  "My  child,  hasten  home 
before  you  are  missed;  we  are  on  our  way  to 
your  parents  with  sorrowful  tidings." 

"So,  you  rascal,  we  were  just  in  time  to 
save  you  two  youn^'  fools,  it  seems1 

"  She  only  came  to  bid  me  farewell  —  what 
ever  my  own  mad  hopes  mi^'ht  have  been.  I 
love  her,  and  I  wished  to  save  her  trom  this 
frightful  old  man." 

I  here  was  a  quiet  touch  on  his  arm.  "  I>en- 
tinck,  my  dear,  LM>  home,  and  thank  ( jod  that 
the  yonnL;'  maid  loved  you  and  her  honor 
more  than  haj)piness." 

IX 

I\    Mevrouw's   room   they  stared   an^nl\   at 
the  messengers  of  trouble,  as  it   they  were  re 
sponsil  de. 

Mevrouw  spoke  at  last.      "And  he  died  six 


THE    COURTING    OF    JUFFROUW  VAN    LOO      43 

weeks  ago?  Why,  then,  this  is  no  wedding 
at  all!  My  poor  Janet  —  so  —  so  reconciled 
to  it.  I  have  had  my  doubts  recently,  Overste 
de  Kock.  I  considered  him  too  old  ;  but  you 
would  have  it,  and  I  dare  say  you  meant 
well."  And,  after  all  this  willingness,  to  have 
no  occasion  for  it,  Mevrouw  lamented.  "  Ex 
cellency  Donderkull  —  how  well  it  sounded, 
poor  child  !  And  already  six  weeks  dead  !  " 
"Died  after  sending  his  picture." 
"If  the  child  only  has  another  chance," 
Mevrouw  groaned — "a  child  that  's  been 
partly  married;  it  's  so  —  so  —  improper." 

"  A  CHANCE  in  the  garden  was  taking  time 
by  the  forelock,"  the  captain  growled. 

"  Mevrouw,  grant  me  a  favor?  " 

"What  is  it,  Juffrouw  de  Kock?  What 
ails  you  ?  " 

"  Let  me  tell  her." 

She  hesitated  on  the  threshold,  and  Janet 
ran  toward  her.  "  Something  has  happened, 
Juftrouw  P>etje  —  is  Bentinck  —  " 

"  Is  there  no  one  else-  in  all  the  world, 
child?" 

Negligently  thrown  down  on  the  table  lay 
tin-  miniature  <>(  an  old  man.  Juilrouw  de 


44  KITWYK    STOR1KS 

Kock  paused,  and  her  hand  touched  the  pol 
ished  ivory. 

"For  pity's  sake,  what  has  happened?" 

"  It  I  should  tell  you,  child,  that  you  can 
not  marry  this  man,  that  your  marriage  ol 
to-day  was  no  marriage,  what  would  you 
say?" 

"  I  should  thank  ( iod." 

"Cruel!  cruel!  but  thank  (iod,  then,  if 
you  can,"  and  the  tears  tell  do\\  n  the  old 
cheeks  as  she  took  the  picture  in  her  hands, 
"  tor  he  is  dead." 

"  Dead  !" 

"  Ami  you  are  a^ain  futtromv  van  Loo,  and 
you  can  love  whom  you  will,"  she  added  with 
a  quick  jealousy  tor  the  one  who  was  dead. 

"  luttrouw  de  Kock  —  forgive  me  it  I  hurt 
you,  luit  why  do  you  so  ^rieve  tor  the  one 
who  is  L^'one  and  whom  you  have  not  seen  tor 
so  many  years  ?  " 

|uttrouw  de  Kock  hid  her  lace  in  her  lon^ 
white  apron  before  she  spoke.  "Because  I 
loved  him  once":  then  lower  and  lower,  as 
it  it  were  a  crime,  "  <  >h.  child,  because  I  love 
him  still!  She  telt  t\\'o  gentle  hands  about 
h<  r  neck,  and  her  head  lay  against  a  \OUUL;" 
and  1< )\  im*  heart. 


THE   COURTING    OF    JUFFROUW   VAN    LOO      45 

"  I  low  can  I  comfort  you  ?  " 

"  Had  you  hut  grieved,  my  child." 

"  I  kit   how    can    I    grieve    for    one   I    never 

saw  ?  " 

"  I  know,  I  know.     Pi  is  death  is  your  gain," 

and  Juffrouw  de  Kock  turned  toward  the  door. 
"I  —  I  cannot  comfort  you,  I  cannot  grieve 

as    I    ought — but    take    this ;     it    should    be 

yours." 

As   Juffrouw  de   Kock  hurried  through  the 

lane  of  poplar-trees,    she  held   the    miniature 

close  in  her  hands,  and  her  tears  fell  so  thick 

and    fast    that    she    stumbled   over    the   dead 

leaves. 


Till-:    FACTIONS    OF    KITWYK 


A1 


T  sunset   the   canal    at   Kitwvk  lav  across 


—  silence  everywhere,  except  for  the  monoto 
nous  croak  of  the  bullfrogs  and  the  melan 
choly  chant  of  the  crickets.  On  the  banks 
of  the  (\anal  loomed  the  Kitwyk  windmill,  its 
black  sails  heavily  at  rest,  and  on  the  horizon 
against  the  sunset  a  silhouette  of  wind-blown 
poplars,  a  disordered  slant  of  queer  Cabled 
roots,  while  a  church  spire  and  the  flapping 
sail  of  an  idle  bar^e  were  strangely  entangled 
and  etched  against  the  copper  disk  of  the 
setting  sun.  I'adm^"  away  into  the  misty  dis 
tance  stood  a  phalanx  of  windmills,  their  sails 
set  to  the  last  breath  of  the  wind  as  it  went 
down. 

As  the  copper  disk  sank,  it  was  the  signal 
for  a  li^'ht  in  the  window  of  the  Kitwyk  mill, 
by  which  Kitwyk  knew  that  I  )ivine  Provi 
dence  and  )ultrouw  van  (icldern  announced 


THE    FACTIONS    OF    KITVVYK  47 

the  day  to  be  at  an  end.  Answering  lights 
began  to  twinkle  in  the  Burgomaster's  house 
on  the  market-place;  in  the  kitchen  window 
of  the  castle  of  Ten  Brink,  where  Juffrouw  de 
Rock  dozed  gently  over  her  Bible  ;  lastly,  in 
the  mansion  of  the  great  Jonkheer  van  Loo. 
Not  only  was  he  great  because  of  an  ancestry 
that  had  contributed  a  martyr  to  the  Duke  of 
Alva,  but  because  of  the  grandeur  of  Me- 
vroiuv,  his  wife.  It  is  perhaps  sufficient  to 
state  that  Mevrouw  possessed  the  one  black 
velvet  gown  ot  Kitwyk,  besides  a  bird  of 
paradise,  which  on  worthy  occasions  graced 
the  noble  structure  on  her  head ;  at  which 
time,  also,  a  mighty  gold  watch  dangled 
heavily  before  her.  So  conscious  and  loud 
was  the  tick  of  this  stately  timepiece  that  it 
had  kept  many  a  sleepy  soul  awake  when  the 
good  dominie's  sermon  invited  to  repose. 
For  fifty  years  this  excellent  man  expounded, 
and  then  he  died,  leaving  Kitwyk  plunged  in 
a  turmoil  of  excitement ;  for  rival  candidates 
appeared,  who  pounded  the  pulpit  cushions 
and  roared  to  the  glory  of  God.  For  the  first 
time  in  the  history  of  the  church  the  select 
little  band  of  martyrs  in  the  gallery,  who 
pipe.d  the  hymns  under  the  direction  of  the 


4-S  KITWYK    STOK1KS 

schoolmaster,  and  the  inspiring  strains  of 
Kobus,  the  town  trumpeter,  were  sufficiently 
awake  to  require  no  prodding  from  the  sc'xton 
with  a  long  pole,  the  other  end  of  which  was 
furnished  with  a  contribution-bag. 

1  he  excitement  in  Kitwyk  culminated  when 
1  Burgomaster  I  )efregge  and  Mevrouw  van  Loo 
each  in  turn  produced  a  candidate.  '1  here 
was  no  illusion  with  respect  to  Mevrouw's 
candidate.  He  earned  a  weary  living  by  edu 
cating  the  Van  Loo  heir,  and  bore  witness  in 
his  own  person  to  the  active  Christian  charity 
of  Mevrouw.  He  was  open  to  such  gifts  as 
the  righteous  were  inclined  to  bestow,  who 
naturally  felt  tor  him  that  contemptuous  inter 
est  aroused  by  the  recognition  of  one's  cast- 
oft  clothes,  so  familiar  a  part  of  one's  self,  on 
another  human  being.  So  energetic  wen; 
Mevrouw's  efforts,  that  it  was  said  she  all  but 
wrote  his  trial  sermon;  at  all  events  she  added 
the  damnations  that  afterward  electrified 
Kitwyk. 

It  was  an  early  bine  morning:  the  wind 
mills  were  set  against  a  glorious  blue  sky: 
the  barges  at  anchor  were  scrubbed  to  the 
glory  of  dod.  There  was  a  la/y  flap  of  dull 
red  sail;  the  barge  chimneys  sent  up  a  faint 


TFIF    FACTIONS    OF    KITWYK  49 

gray  smoke,  while  the;  clean  lace  curtains  at 
the  windows  proclaimed  the  sacredness  ol  the 
day.  The  very  brass  knockers  were;  scrubbed 
to  an  offensive  splendor,  and  in  the  gallery 
the;  wooden  shoes  of  the  choir  knocked  against 
the  railing  with  virtuous  promptness  :  the;  sex 
ton's  rod  was  temporarily  inactive.  If  Me- 
vromv  van  Loo  sat  in  the  chief  seat  right 
under  the  pulpit,  on  the  other  hand,  the  Bur 
gomaster  faced  her,  being  one  ot  live  elders 
who  in  the  circular  pew  about  the  pulpit  had 
that  sanctuary  as  support  for  their  righteous 
backs. 

Many  and  many  a  Sunday  had  Mevrouw 
van  Loo  and  Mynheer  Defregge  glared  at 
each  other  throughout  the;  entire  divine  ser 
vice,  while  Jonkheer  van  Loo  slept  the  sleep 
of  the  just,  oblivious  to  the  counsels  of  the 
wise;  as  well  as  to  divine  wrath. 

The  procession  to  church  was  simple  and 
effective:  it  consisted  of  the  little  candidate 
in  gown,  bands,  and  square  cap,  followed  by 
his  patroness  in  black  velvet,  and  under  her 
double  chin  a  mighty  miniature  of  Jonkheer 
van  Loo. 

Two  tow-headed  urchins  who  by  reason  of 
their  early  piety  were;  selected  to  ring  the 


50  KITYVYK    STORIKS 

church  bell,  arul  whose  energies  had  Ian 
guished  as  the  last  \\orshiper  straggled  into 
the  sacred  cditicc,  becoming1  aware  of  the  ap 
proach  ot  Mevrouw  in  the  wake  ot  her  candi 
date,  no  sooner  encountered  her  active  eye, 
than  they  tolled  with  such  energy  that  several 
pillars  of  the  church  \\en-  prematurely  awak 
ened,  a  terrible  innovation  prophetic  ot  evil. 

1  he  elders  straightened  up  powerfully,  the 
sexton  culled  the  nearest  boy,  the  schoolmas 
ter  struck  up  a  line  old  choral,  and  Kobus 
tooted  till  the  rafters  rang,  as  the  little  can 
didate  pattered  up  the  aisle,  (lushing  pain- 
hilly,  while  behind  him  strode  Mevrouw  van 
Loo,  the  black  velvet,  in  which  Kitwyk  took  a 
municipal  pride,  sweeping  behind  her. 

Such  was  her  vainglory,  Mynheer  Defregge 
declared,  thai  she  was  about  to  mount  into 
the  pulpit,  when — 

In  her  triumphal  progress  she  had  jusi 
reached  it,  when  the  Burgomaster  leaned 
over  his  pew,  and  whispered  most  audibly: 

"  Mistress  van  Loo, —  he!  he!  he!  —  which 
is  your  candidate  ?  " 

"Which?" 

In  her  interest  in  the  affairs  of  Divine  Prov 
idence  she  had  tor  the  iirst  time  forgotten 


THE    FACTIONS    OF    KITWYK  51 

one  of  her  household  duties,  and  Divine  1'rov 
idence,  with  very  little  consideration  lor  her 
feeling's  or  her  efforts,  permitted  a  most  la 
mentable  sacrilege ;  for  with  majestic  stride, 
not  unlike  Mevrouw's,  who  should  bring  up 
the  rear  but  the  very  biggest  turkey-gobbler 
in  all  Kitwyk  !  For  a  moment  the  two  eyed 
each  other  —  the  turkey  reproachfully  inquir 
ing  for  his  breakfast,  Mevrouw  in  speechless 
rage.  Then  Mevrouw  sank  on  the  pulpit 
stairs.  It  was  the  sexton  who  at  the  hazard 
of  his  life  leaned  over  the  gallery  and  swung 
the  contribution-bag  in  the  face  of  the  mis 
taken  fowl,  which  swelled  with  outraged  dig- 
nit)-,  but  was  otherwise  unmoved. 

Kven  the  Burgomaster  felt  for  Mevrouw. 
"  Shoo  !  "  he  cried,  and  waved  his  cocked  hat 
at  the  bird  over  the  pew  rail,  while  the  four 
elders  threatened  him  with  red  bandana  hand 
kerchiefs  and  gold-headed  canes,  which,  com 
bined  with  an  empty  stomach,  goaded  him 
almost  to  madness.  Overste  de  Kock,  in  vir 
tue  of  his  military  character,  was  about  to  leap 
forward  and  cope  with  the,  enemy,  but  ]uf- 
frouw  Rozenboom  fainted  just  across  the  pew 
door,  and  there  is  really  no  knowing  how  it 
would  have  ended,  had  not  jonkheer  van  Loo 


52  KITWYK    STORIES 

awakened  to  the-  situation  from  a  peaceful 
nap. 

"  Bless  me  !  what  is  Ephraim  doing  here  ?  " 
he  asked  placidly.  Kphraim  was  the  turkey's 
domestic  name. 

The  candidate  had  retreated  into  the  pulpit 
and  bolted  the  door, —  he  knew  the  ferocious 
character  of  turkeys, —  Mevrouw  van  Loo  in 
a  panic  fled  up  the  pulpit  steps,  while  the  tur 
key,  shrieking'  after  the  manner  ol  his  kind, 
stood  at  bay,  with  tail  outspread  against  the 
pew  door  of  the  afflicted  Juftrouw  Rozenboom. 

Then  it  was  that  Jonkheer  van  Loo  proved 
himself  to  be  of  the  heroic  stock  of  the  Van 
Loo  who  suffered  under  Alva. 

Alone  and  unprotected  he  stepped  into  the 
aisle  and  confronted  the  enemy,  which  seemed 
to  recognize  the  familiar  scarlet  countenance, 
for  he  partly  lowered  his  tail,  and  retreated  a 
step  or  two. 

"  Why,  Ephraim,  you  have  n't  had  any 
breakfast,  have  you  ?  "  said  the  heroic  man. 
"Now  come  home  with  me!"  which  so  con 
vinced  the  fowl  that  he  lowered  his  tail  and 
ambled  out  of  the  sanctuary,  followed  by  his 
master,  who  thus  forcibly  demonstrated  the 
advantages  of  a  heroic  ancestry,  the  congre- 


MEVRdUW  S    CANDIDA  IK. 


THE    SINGULAR    CLEVERNESS    OF 

TOBY    VAN    LOO 

I  IL  next  candidate  for  the  vacant  pulpit 
of  Kitwyk  was  the  Burgomaster's. 

Rumors  were  conflicting  ;  newspapers  were 
unknown  ;  but  thank  Heaven  !  there  was  the 
town -pump. 

Everything  in  Kitwyk  radiated  from  the 
town-pump,  a  great  iron  structure  with  a 
stout  handle,  at  which  Kitwyk  had  exercised 
its  muscles  since  before  the  clays  of  the  Span 
iards. 

The  pump  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  sleepy 
market-place,  flanked  on  one  side  by  the 
church,  mildewing  behind  a  row  of  chestnut- 
trees,  and  the  town-hall,  where  a  blindfolded 
Justice  without  a  nose  presided  over  the  en 
trance.  On  the  other  side  stood  the  tavern 
William  the  Silent,  which  once  harbored  that 
great  man,  whose  grave  face,  with  peaked 
beard  and  mighty  ruff,  decorated  the  swing 
ing  sign,  which  creaked  dismally  when  the 


• 


..  .. 


SINGULAR   CLEVERNESS   OF   TOBY   VAN   LOO       55 

wind  swept  up  from  the  Zuycler  Zee.  The 
two  settles  in  the  porch  were  never  without 
a  pair  of  worthy  burghers,  who  smoked  and 
stared  into  vacancy,  occasionally  roused  to 
active  earthly  interest  by  the  squeak  of  the 
town-pump. 

The  code  of  etiquette  of  Kitwyk  was  most 
rigid  :  it  was  an  unwritten  law  that  no  one- 
existed  until  afternoon.  Although  everybody 
had  to  go  to  the  pump  for  water,  and  conse 
quently  the  ladies  met  there  ever)'  morning, 
arrayed  in  a  negligee  of  clogs  and  nightcaps, 
it  was,  nevertheless,  decreed  that  Kitwyk  was 
socially  invisible  in  the  morning,  so  that  when 
these  worthy  dames  met  of  an  afternoon,  they 
Look  up  their  remarks  not  from  pump-time, 
but  from  any  previous  meeting  guiltless  of 
nightcaps  and  clogs. 

When  Mevrouw  van  Laan  clattered  across 
the  market-place  of  an  early  morning,  and 
with  the  help  of  a  stout  maid  carried  a  great 
basket  of  snow-white:  linen  that  had  been 
bleaching  on  the  meadow,  she  was  socially 
invisible;,  for  not  only  was  she.  in  her  night 
cap,  but  she;  was  without  her  teeth.  The 
latter  were'  a  startling  innovation  to  which 
kitvvyk  with  difficulty  had  reconciled  itself 


when  Mevrouw,  beme;  of  an  adventurous  na 
ture,  brought  them  in  triumph  from  Rotter- 
clam,  years  before. 

Rumor  was  active:  in  kitwyk,  and  a  L^'eat 
deal  of  \\'ater  was  wasted  at  the  pump. 

I  he  important  Sunday  arrived  —  a  hot  July 
day,  tempered  by  a  la/y  bree/e  that  flecked 
the  scarlet  poppies  in  the  wheat-fields,  the 
yellow  lur/e  by  the  roadside,  and  the  deep 
red  clover  about  the  Ivitwyk  mill. 

At  tlie  open  door  of  his  house,  on  the  mar 
ket  place,  where  the  cool  shade  of  the  tile- 
paved  hall  formed  a  pleasing  contrast  to  th 
inly  sun,  the  Burgomaster  waited  for  his  can 
didate.  In  the  shad'-  of  four  linden-trees 
trained  flat  against  the  butt-brick  walls,  Myn 
heer  Defreu^'e  do/.ed  in  company  with  his 
do^"  Polder.  Overhead,  perched  on  a  win 
dow-sill,  a  youn^'  person  watched  the  road  in 
the  discreet  shadow  of  a  pot  of  mignonette. 

I  here  was  a  rosy  flush  on  [uflrouw  I)e- 
trev;v;'e\  round  lace,  tor  she  was  awaiting  the 
realixati* >n  < >f  her  dreams. 

\o  romance  in  Kitwyk,  indeed!  An  inven 
tory  of  [nltroiiw  I  )el revue's  head  would  ha\'e 
dispelled  such  an  illusion. 

The    announcement    came    bv    the    weeklv 


".MVNUKKK     DKI' KKOCi:     ])n/KD     IN    COMPANY    WITH     III 


SINGULAR   CLEVERNESS   OF   TOBY   VAN   LOO       57 

"  Post,"  and  Juffrouw  Toni  across  the  tea 
kettle  gave  a  sigh  that  strained  her  blue  bod- 
ice  to  the  utmost.  Mynheer  considered  sighs 
as  almost  immoral. 

A  young-  Dominie,  of  course  !  I  low  will 
ingly  she  would  go  to  church,  and  at  the  bare 
thought  Juffrouw  Defregge's  nose  tried  to  sub 
due  its  upward  tilt  to  a  new  air  of  devotion. 

Once  Juffrouw  Toni  had  almost  had  a  ro 
mance,  not  unconnected  with  the  pump  and  a 
slim  stranger;  but  there  had  come  a  blight, 
and  she  decided  to  turn  to  religion  for  conso 
lation, —  religion  expounded  by  something 
young  and  soul-subduing,  —  and  so  she  sur 
veyed  her  wardrobe,  and  piously  lelt  the  rest 
to  Divine  Providence. 

The  questions  she  asked  her  parent  filled 
him  with  consternation  ;  all  she  extracted  was 
that  the  candidate  was  unmarried,  on  which 
trail  foundation  she  built  so  fast  that  she 
secretly  meditated  on  the  cut  ot  surplices. 

Mow  would  he  burst  upon  Kitwyk  ?  Out 
of  her  imagination,  aided  by  the  Van  Loo 
state  chariot,  she  evolved  an  equipage  into 
which  she  clapped  a  slim  and  serious  young 
man  whose  saintly  composure  was  only  to 
be-,  milled  by  her  blue  eyes. 


58  K1TWYK    SToKIKS 

Having  arranged  the  preliminaries,  |uf- 
trouw  I  )etre^e  waited  to  hear  the  chariot 
clatter  into  the  market-place.  1  lowever,  no 
thing  was  to  he  heard  but  the  bu/x  of  the  lo 
custs  and  the  creak  ot  the  j)iimp,  as  a  very 
dry  worshiper  helped  himself  to  water.  She 
overlooked  a  dii.^ty  individual  with  a  bundle 
under  his  arm,  though  Polder  did  not;  he- 
trotted  out,  made  all  preparations  to  hark, 
then  changed  his  mind,  and  his  ^reetin^  to  a 
friendly  snitt. 

It  he  were  not  to  come!  It  would  lie  just 
like  her  lather  to  sleep  under  such  disastrous 
circumstances. 

She  llew  down-stairs,  partly  tor  consola 
tion,  partly  for  reproach.  I  here  was  no  one 
in  the  porch  1>ut  an  elderly  stranger,  who 
mopped  his  bald  head  with  a  yellow  hand 
kerchief.  "  Mevdn  with  my  boots,  YOUUL;' 
woman,  and  he  stretched  out  two  prodig 
ious,  dusty  feet,  and  took  a  pinch  of  snuft. 

fullrouw  I  )ctre^-^e  lied  in  company  with 
her  blighted  hopc.-s,  and  a  housemaid  dusted 
the  holy  man,  and  helped  him  on  with  his 
v;own,  which  was  in  the  bundle  alon^  with 
a  do^'-eared  sermon. 

I  he  onlv  miracle-   that  attended   his  advent 


SINGULAR  CLEVERNESS  OF  TOBY   VAN    LOO      59 

was  the  behavior  of  the  clog  Pokier.  Polder, 
who  greeted  all  newcomers  with  outrageous 
howls,  at  once  took  up  his  position  on  the 
gown  as  its  owner  thumbed  his  discourse, 
and  watched  his  movements  with  the  most 
ardent  friendliness. 

Of  the  worshipers  who  passed,  only  Toby 
van  Loo  paused  irresolutely.  Toby  van  Loo 
enjoyed  the  distinction  of  being  the  only  dog 
who  went  to  church:  because  of  his  ear-split 
ting  voice,  and  the  high  social  position  ol 
[onkheervan  Loo,  this  privilege  was  accorded 
him,  as  his  yelps  of  anguish  on  being  sepa 
rated  irom  his  master  at  the  church  door  im 
peded  divine  service. 

To  the  scandal  of  the  more  democratic, 
Toby  was  locked  in  the  vestry  during  service, 
where  he  resigned  himself  to  the  new  order 
of  things,  and  slept  to  "  Amen." 

It  was  this  privileged  animal  who  paused 
on  his  way  to  the  sanctuary,  then  ambled  up 
to  Polder  on  the  gown,  who  received  him 
with  growls. 

But  Polder  was  seized  by  his  fat  neck  as  he 
prepared  to  follow  his  Reverence  to  church, 
and  borne  into  the  house,  where,  mounted  on 
a  chair  by  the  window,  he  wailed  in  unex- 


fjo  KITWYK    STORIKS 

plained  anguish.  The  more  fortunate  Toby 
clunjr  to  the  sacred  coat-tails,  and  was  with 
difficulty  prevented  Iroin  precipitating  hiinsclt 
after  the  candidate-  into  the  church  through 
the  vestry  door;  as  it  was,  his  wail  of  disap 
pointment  was  distinct!}-  audible.  At  this 
very  inopportune  moment,  as  the  candidate 
knelt  in  prayer,  a  li^'ht  of  an  exceedingly 
earths'  nature  dawned  on  him  as  his  heels 
came  in  sudden  contact  with  the  lon^  tails 
<>t  his  coat. 

I  oby's  sudden  passion  was  explained,  and 
at  the  same  time  his  Reverence  broke  into  a 
profuse  perspiration  as  he  realized  that  be 
tween  him  and  a  pampered  brute  there  was 
only  the  rickety  vestry  door  at  the  foot  of  the 
pulpit.  \\  hat  would  the  greedy  beast  care  lor 
the  sacred  occasion2  Little  did  the  worship 
ers  suspect  the  anguish  of  die  man  of  (iod. 

Kobns  tooted,  the  little  band  san^"  shrill}', 
and  the  congregation  stru^'ided  independently 
after. 

Mevrouw  van  Loo  settled  herself  in  her 
black  velvet  with  (_  hristian  anticipations  of  the 
enemy's  defeat;  but  preseutl}"  the  candidate 
reco\'ered  himself,  and  expounded  with  such 
L'A'  that  Mevrouw  jrrew  discouraged,  \\lnle 


.  .     JJS  •'•«'< 

<-;,/T-, 


'    : 


s         '  .-y,-y 

^        A  ..... 


•  '•  -'.''i...   f-. 


SINGULAR    CLEVERNESS   OF   TOBY    VAN   LOO     61 

the  dust  of  the  pulpit  cushions  rose  as  a  vo 
tive  offering'. 

In  his  zeal  the  good  man  forgot  his  foe  in 
the  vestry.  He  thumped  the  Bible,  he  stormed 
to  his  climax  in  rapture,  and  just  reached  it 
when  —  when  the  vestry  door  creaked  on  its 
hinges.  That  was  enough, —  he  faltered - 
he  was  lost. 

The  wretched  dog  !  He  heard  him  creep  up 
the  pulpit  stairs,  a  warm  breath  fanned  his 
heels.  "  Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan  !  "  roared 
the  distracted  man  of  God,  and,  lifting  a  pon 
derous  foot,  he  struck  backward. 

A  partly  suppressed  wail,  and  the  thumping 
of  an  invisible  body  down  the  pulpit  stairs, 
roused  the  congregation  out  of  their  peaceful 
slumbers. 

The  service  was  over.  The  candidate  turned 
grimly  to  encounter  the  slaughtered  Toby. 
But  there  was  n't  even  a  drop  of  blood  —  only 
the  Burgomaster. 

But  at  the  vestry  door  Mynheer  Defregge 
fell  back  in  horror.  "What  in  thunder  !  " 

Before  the  stove,  beating  the  floor  with  his 
stump  of  a  tail,  lay  Toby  van  Loo,  happy  and 
uninjured,  but  in  a  corner,  his  head  tied  up 
in  a  red  bandana  handkerchief,  groaned  the 
sexton. 


KITWYK    STORiKS 
"  Rozenboom,  what  under  the  sun  has  hap 


"  Please,  your  \\orship, —  his  —  his  Rever 
ence  kicked  me  ! 

Mynheer  stared  aghast.  As  an  introduc 
tion  of  a  shepherd  to  his  Hock,  it  could  hardly 
he  considered  auspicious. 

"  llis  Reverence  had  preached  an  hour  and 
a  halt,  and  so  I  crept  up  the  pulpit  stairs,  tak 
ing  ott  my  shoes  lor  tear  ot  noise,  to  notify 
him  ot  the  lateness  ot  the  hour,  and  just  as  I 
L^'ot  behind  him,  with  no  provocation  at  all, 
out  comes  his  toot,  and  —  (  )  Lord  !  (  )  Lord  ! 

Mevrouw  van  Loo  arrived  on  the  scene  just 
in  time  to  send  tor  LMU  and  linen,  with  a  ^reat 
display  of  rig'hteous  horror. 

"  I  kicked  because  I  thought  it  was  thai 
confounded  do^',"  his  Reverence  roared,  and 
took  three  solid  pinches  ot  si 


van  Loo  LH'ew  scarlet  with  ra^v.  "  Come 
away  from  him,  'I  ol>y  !  hut  tin-  faithful  I  oby 
cliin^'  to  the  clerical  coat-tails. 

"  What  should  tempt  a  poor  dumb  beast 
into  the  pulpit  ?  "  shouted  his  outraged  master. 

"  Tempt  him  !  The  candidate  snapped  his 
snuff-box,  dived  into  his  coat-tails,  and  bore 


SINGULAR    CLEVERNESS  OF    TORY   VAN   LOO     63 

aloft,  wrapped  in  a  blue  handkerchief,  ihe  re 
mains  of  a  noble  sausaire. 

*_> 

"  Part  was  my  breakfast ;  this  is  my  dinner. 
We  sha'n't  suit  each  other,  and  so  I  bid  you 
good  day.  Your  servant !  "  and  being  a  pep 
pery  man  of  God,  he  flounced  out  of  the 
vestry,  his  gown  flapping,  in  one  hand  his 
sermon  and  in  the  other  the  sausage  ;  and  so 
he  shouldered  his  way  through  the  straggling 
worshipers  in  the  market-place. 

The  miraculous  cleverness  of  Toby  was  ac 
knowledged  ;  but  for  him  the  spiritual  welfare 
of  Kitwyk  might  have  been  intrusted  to  a  pas 
tor  whose'  fatal  facility  with  his  heels  would 
have  proved  a  sad  example  for  the  rising  gen 
eration. 

So  the  Burgomaster's  candidate  was  de 
feated  by  Toby  van  Loo,  to  the;  joy  of  that 
blighted  spinster,  Ton!  Defregge. 

The  Italian  violoncello  sent  by  Jonkheer  van 
Loo  to  old  Rozenboom,  to  atone  for  the  in 
juries  he  so  undeservedly  received,  was  felt 
by  Kitwyk  to  be  a  frank  confession  oi  guilt 
on  the  part  of  that  worthy  man  for  having 
used  his  social  position  to  demand  unrighteous 
privileges  in  the  sanctuary. 


THK  VI()L(  >XCKLLO   OF  Jl'FFKOl'XY 
K(  JZKXBOOM 


plIKRK  was  a  frightful  rivalry  between 
L  l\it\vyk  and  Ketwyk.  Sauntering  alon^ 
the  canal,  you  reached  Kitwyk  in  about  lilteen 
minutes.  Municipal  economy  provided  both 
villages  with  one  Burgomaster,  and  as  he 
graced  Kitwyk,  alon_L(  with  the  church,  there 
was  about  it  a  certain  aristocratic  llavor  which 
Ketwyk  lacked. 

(  >n  tlv  other  hand,  Ketwyk  boasted  ol  the 
doctor  and  the  apothecary  in  the  person  ol 
I  )r.  I'ynapjiel,  and  also  ol  the  ^reat  cheese 
establishment  ot  Piepenbrink  <S:  C'o. 

Adventurous  spirits  ol  Ketwyk  saved  them 
selves  Irom  utter  stagnation  by  occasional 
th^hts  to  Kitwyk —  certain  reckless  ones  had 
been  observed  in  the  porch  ol  \\illiam  the 
Silent,  pensu'ely  de\-ounii^  sour  milk  pow 
dered  with  cinnamon  and  su-ar,  Lj'axinLi"  to 


V10LONCKLLO    OF    JUFFROUW    ROZENBOOM     65 

ward  forsaken  Kctwyk,  meanwhile,  with  a 
secret  sense  ol  homesickness. 

Mynheer  foris  Piepcnbrink  ol  Ketwyk,  the 
head  oi  the  "Teat  cheese  house,  was  an  elderly 
bachelor  who  dreaded  to  be.  married  against 
his  will.  To  prevent  such  a  catastrophe  his 
nephew  and  heir,  Jan  Willem  Piepenbrink,  on 
pain  of  disinheritance,  was  instructed  to  rush 
in  and  make  a  third  in  every  tete-a-tete. 

When  Mynheer  was  safe  from  feminine  wiles 
he  could  turn  his  whole  ardent  attention  to  his 
health. 

One  day  Dr.  Pynappel  found  him  a  quiver 
ing  heap  of  anguish  in  his  arm-chair,  two 
pudgy  hands  out-thrust  and  his  tongue  feebly 
wagging. 

"  Can't  find  your  pulse  ?  1 )—  -  your  pulse! 
( iet  married,  and  you  '11  forget  you  Ve  got 
one  !  " 

"No  —  no!  '   and  Mynheer  actually  sobbed. 

"Exercise  yon  must  have!"  So  the  doctor 
proposed  music. 

The  doctor  was  a  violoncello  enthusiast ; 
he  described  that  delicious  sawing  motion  of 
back  and  arms  until  Mynheer  was  [tartly  con 
vinced.  That  very  night  the  doctor  sent  over 
his  third-best  'cello  by  the  cook,  and  gave! 


KITXVYK    STOK1KS 

Mynheer  his  lir>t  lesson  with  such  success 
that  lor  fifteen  blissful  minutes  that  worthy 
man  forgot  that  he  hail  a  pulse.  lie.  took  to 
the  wailm^s  of  the  violoncello  with  rapture, 
ami  melted  over  its  strings  two  hours  a  day, 
to  his  increasing  |<  >\ . 

The  next  step  was  his  presence,  as  a  humble 
disciple,  at  the  musical  evenings  ol  Mevrouw 
van  Laan.  hor  eighteen  years  she  had  played 
trios  with  the  doctor  and  the  Burgomaster 
not  exactly  trios  either,  tor,  as  these  worthy 
^"entleineti  played  only  the  violoncello,  they 
were  naturally  obliged  to  play  the  same  part. 

Twice  a  week  they  met,  discoursing  music 
more  or  less  sweet,  with  raia:  in  their  hearts, 
for  their  intentions  with  regard  to  the  lady 
were  an  open  secret;  yet  after  eighteen  pa 
tient  years  the  lady  was  still  awaiting  a  dec 
laration. 

Time  passed  so  quickly  without  any  emo 
tion  to  mark  it  as  with  a  mile-stone,  that  it 
it  had  not  been  for  youna"  Jillis  van  Laan  and 
the  increasing  breadth  ot  her  whom  they 
both  adored,  it  mi^ht  to  all  intents  and  pur 
poses  have  been  the  selfsame  day  when  I 'r. 
I'ynapple  and  the  Burgomaster,  Mynheer 
e,  met  at  the  widow's  brass  knocker, 


VIOLONCELLO    OF   JUFFROUW    ROZENBOOM     67 

each  with  a  violoncello  in  a  green  baize  bag 
under  his  arm,  both  corning  with  the  philan 
thropic  intention  of  cheering  the  recently  be 
reaved  widow  with  a  little  music. 

At  the  open  door  they  were  greeted  by 
unmerciful  shrieks. 

It  was  little  Jillis,  and  little  Jillis  was  evi 
dently  being  cuffed.  The  fair  widow  de 
scended  with  a  flush  on  her  cheek,  and  found 
her  consolers  stranded  on  two  stiff  chairs, 
L>'larinor  defiance  at  each  other.  Neither  o-ave 

O  O  O 

way,  and  so  the  three  played  duets,  which  is 
ever  a  mistake. 

In  the  course  of  years  Jillis  descended  from 
the  apartment  in  which  she  first  howled,  and 
was  accepted  below  as  a  necessary  evil.  It 
was,  to  say  the  least,  disconcerting  to  do  any 
courting  before  that  child.  Perched  on  a 
high  chair,  she  gazed  at  the  two  gentlemen 
with  round  blue  eyes  and  an  inquiring  smile. 
But  when  for  the  first  time  Mevrouw  van 
Laan  abdicated  the  spindle-legged  piano- 
stool  and  hoisted  Jillis  to  the  level  of  the  yel 
low  keys,  the  two  amateurs  declared  it  to  be 
monstrous;  but  Mevrouw  was  not  without  a 
sense  of  injury  because  of  those  years  of 
silence. 


6S  KITXVYK    STORIES 

To  play  with   that  brat  of  a  child  —  never! 

Hut  man  is  the  creature  oi  habit,  and  by 
and  by  they  grew  callous.  The  brat,  dragged 
to  the  instrument  l>y  the  tails  of  her  flaxen 
hair,  merged  into  a  rosy-cheeked  young  maid, 
who  one  day  was  lound  to  have  grown  up. 
On  making  this  simultaneous  discovery,  the 
Burgomaster  appeared  in  a  new  coat,  and  the 
doctor  in  a  new  wig". 

Immolated  on  the  altar  oi  music,  [illis  pre 
sented  to  that  divine:  art  a  perfectly  vacant 
mind,  untroubled  by  discords  or  harmonies, 
so  that  alter  a  couple  oi  hours'  struggle 
she  was  enabled  to  emerge  exhausted,  to  be 
sure,  but  good-natured,  the  harmonies  having 
been  mercifully  stopped  at  her  outer  ear,  leav 
ing  her  to  meditate  on  the  problems  dear  to 
her  —  for  instance,  the  brewing  of  a  cordial 
into  which  she  poured  all  the  romance  ot  her 
placid  heart. 

"  Parfait  Amour"  it  was  called,  and  it  was 
a  rich,  rosy  liquid,  and,  as  was  eminently 
proper,  oi  a  somewhat  sluggish  flow.  (  >n  the 
surprising  discovery  that  Jillis  was  grown  up, 
the  two  adorers  of  Mevromv  were  more  than 
ever  undecided  about  declaring  their  passion 
to  her  parent;  each,  indeed,  felt  a  praise- 


VIOLONCELLO    OF    JUFFROUW    ROZENBOOM     6y 

worthy  impulse  to  resign  her  to  the  other. 
It  was  just  at  this  time  that  the  doctor  brought 
Mynheer  Piepenbrink  to  the  musical  even 
ings,  and  Mynheer  was  in  turn  accompanied 
by  his  panacea  against  feminine  wiles,  Jan 
Willem.  Should  Mevrouw  smile  too  warmly 
on  Mynheer,  he  could  find  in  Jan  Willem's 
presence  a  moral  support. 

Jan  Willem,  who  abhorred  music  with  the 
one  enthusiasm  of  his  nature,  was  reconciled 
only  at  sight  of  that  other  victim,  who,  how 
ever,  for  the  first  time,  not  only  ceased  to 
yawn,  but  was  blissfully  conscious  —  though 
she  turned  to  him  only  a  bewildering,  burn 
ished  surface  of  yellow  braids  —  of  a  big 
young  man,  with  pink-and-white  cheeks  and 
slow,  surprised  eyes.  An  unusual  vivacity 
seized  her.  The  last  false  note  had  hardly 
died  away  when  she  disappeared,  and  re 
turned  with  a  japanned  tray  on  which  glowed 
in  a  crystal  decanter  a  rose-colored  liquid  - 
"  Parfait  Amour." 

Parfait  Amour  !     Ah,  yes  —  yes. 

They  all  drank  pensively,  and  smacked 
their  lips,  and  the  room  was  full  of  the  aroma 
of  almonds  and  wild  roses,  and  Jan  Willem, 
with  an  appreciative  stare  at  Jillis,  asked  lor 


7u  KIIAVVK    STORIES 

more',  and  she  Mushed  like  a  rose  as  she  filled 
his  glass,  and  he:  was  almost,  reconciled  to 
music. 

Mynheer  emerged  from  these  entertain 
ments  with  a  triumphant  feeling  of  having 
escaped  from  pitfalls,  combined  with  a  wild 
yearning  to  produce  on  his  own  instrument 
similar  delicious  strains.  The  soul  of  a  music 
enthusiast  of  the  fiercest  sort,  unsuspcctedly 
slumbering  within  him,  was  roused.  His 
hitherto  placid  soul  was  tormented  by  jeal 
ousy  as  lu:  meditated  e>n  the  superior  merits 
of  his  two  worth\-  frienels.  Mynheer  was  not 
only  capable  of  emotion,  but  emotion  that 
was  colossal. 

ii 

\Viir.x  old  Rozenboom  the  sexton  died,  he 
left  his  Italian  violoncello  —  the'  one  sent  him 
by  fonkheer  van  Loo,  because:  of  his  unmer 
ited  sufferings  —  to  his  only  daughter  }uf- 
frouw  Brigitte'  Rozenboom,  who  main-  and 
many  a  time  had  fled  from  its  wailings  with 
cotton  in  her  ears.  She  was  a  romanfic  soul, 
but  she  disapproved  of  music,  and  so  it  was 
with  the  usual  iron}'  of  fate  that  her  legacy 
consisted  of  this  precious  instrument.  Reck- 


VIOLONCELLO    OF    JUFFROUW    ROZENBOOM      71 

oned  by  the  unfulfilled  hopes  of  her  heart,  Juf- 
frouw  Rozenboom  was  still  sixteen.  Obliv 
ious  to  the  tweaks  of  rheumatism,  she  tripped 
to  the  pump  as  in  her  girlhood. 

In  the  leisure  of  doing  a  little  dressmaking 
she  wrote  poetry,  and  over  her  peat-stove 
stood  the  plaster  bust  of  Jacob  Cats,  the  il 
lustrious  Dutch  poet,  crowned  with  a  with 
ered  laurel  wreath.  Such  is  our  low  human 
nature,  that  it  was  rumored  that  the  illus 
trious  bard  figured  in  private  as  a  model 
upon  which  the  inspired  lady  tried  those 
caps  and  bonnets  that  petrified  Kitwyk  of  a 

Sunday. 

Juffrouw  Brigitte  lived  in  two  rooms  so  nar 
row  that,  had  she  fainted  crosswise  in  them, 
she  would  inevitably  have  had  to  be  pried 
out. 

The  only  one  in  Kitwyk  who  firmly  be 
lieved  in  the  lady's  poetry  was  Duffels,  for 
she  had  in  turn  greeted  nine  infant  Duffelses 
with  an  ode  ot  welcome'.  Duffels  pined  to 
show  his  gratitude',  which  hitherto  had  taken 
only  the  form  of  tidbits  of  gossip,  for  the 
grateful  man  was  the  village  barber,  and  his 
opportunities  were  many.  He  was  a  willing 
soul,  with  a  propitiatory  stoop,  and  he  turned 


1-  KIIAYYK    STOK1KS 

his    IKUK!    to    anything:    condoled.    coii</ratu- 

J  *>  O 

lated,  and  even  waited  at  table  with  great 
gentility,  in  a  cast-oil  coat  of  an  easy  fit,  the 
tails  of  which  —  such  were:  his  elegance  ami 
activity! — floated  lightly  behind  him.  The 
nine  had  abnormal  appetites,  increased  by  a 
steady  wading  in  the  green  ditches  in  pursuit 
of  frogs,  and  1  )ul!els  was  horribly  in  debt. 

There  was  Dr.  Pynappel,  whom  he  could 
hardly  lace  because — you  understand  —  of 
the  nine.  He  had  a  stupendous  cheese  debt 
to  Piepenbrink  tv  Co.,  which  he  had  in  vain 
tried  to  shave-  off,  and  he  was  under  munici 
pal  displeasure  because  of  a  too  sparing  use 
of  the  pump.  His  Honor  the  Burgomaster 
was  pleased  to  declare  the  little  1  hiffelses  to 
be  a  disgrace;  to  Kitwyk,  so  dirty  were  their 
faces.  He  had  graciously  emphasized  this 
sentiment  by  hitting  the  pendent  shirt  in  the 
rear  of  the:  nearest  with  his  gold-headed  cane. 
So  1  hiffels  was  crushed  by  care,  and  thought 
it  could  be;  no  worse;  but  he  did  not  under 
stand  the  little  tricks  of  Fate,  until  [ulfroinv 
Rozenboom  inherited  the  violoncello.  Tiii, 
violoncello  1  )r.  Pynappel  begrudged  its  late 
owner,  until  he  had  hated  him  with  consider 
able  enthusiasm.  In  a  weak  hour  he:  confided 


V10LONCKLLO    OF    JUFFROUW    ROZENBOOM     73 

his  hopes  and  fears  to  Mynheer  Piepenbrink. 
At  the  description  of  the  instrument,  Myn 
heer  closed  his  little  eyes  in  ecstasy ;  he  was 
overcome  by  his  first  emotion,  and  it  swept 
before  it  all  considerations  of  the  superior 
rights  of  the  enamoured  doctor.  With  a 
diplomacy  for  which  no  one  would  have  given 
him  credit,  he  sent  in  all  secrecy  to  Duffels. 
A  cheese  debt  of  long  standing  should,  be 
forgiven  Duffels  if  he  would  undertake  to 
obtain  for  Mynheer  this  precious  instrument. 

Duffels  was  already  burdened  with  two  se 
cret  offers  to  Juffrouw  Rozenboom  for  her 
legacy,  one  in  each  wooden  shoe  for  safety. 
The  communication  from  Mynheer  he  con 
fided  to  his  blue-tasseled  night-cap  with  a 
groan ;  for,  try  as  he  would,  he  could  not 
make  three  aspirants  and  one  violoncello 
come  out  right.  The  vengeance  of  two 
would  certainly  pursue  him,  and  it  was  a 
question  whether  he  preferred  the  wrath  of 
the  Burgomaster,  the  doctor,  or  Mynheer 
Piepenbrink. 

From  behind  her  muslin  curtains  Juflrouw 
Rozenboom  overlooked  the  market-place  and 
William  the  Silent.  She  was  dusting  Jacob 
Cats  as  Duffels  shuffled  in.  She  dropped 


74  KITWYK    STOKIKS 

his  laurel  wreath,  and  received  the  three  mis 
sives.  For  one  blissful  moment  the  blame 
less  lady  dreamed,  and  then — oh,  the  pertidy 
of  man  ! 

She  tell  back  limp  against  the  plaster  lin 
eaments  ot  the  illustrious  bard.  Three  pro 
posals,  not  for  her  hand,  but  lor  her  violon 
cello! 

Duffels  turned  discreetly  away,  while:  she 
hid  her  agitated  features  in  the  dust-cloth. 
From  this  retreat  she  announced  her  decision 
with  considerable  sharpness: 

"Want  it,  do  they?  Well,  tell  them  that 
money  won't  buy  it,  Duffels." 

in 

Tin:  announcement  that  mere  money  could 
not  prevail  on  the  lady  to  part  with  her 
legacy  was  a  blow.  Mynheer  Piepenbrink 
was  simply  crushed,  and  his  indecision  and 
lon^'ini^  ^rew  to  frightful  proportions  as  ru 
mor  announced  the  increased  activity  ot  his 
rivals.  Duffels  was  a  very  Ln'atetul  man,  and 
it  seemed  to  him  a  crime  that  so  poetic  a 
lady  should  have  no  opportunities  to  exer 
cise  her  talent  on  herself.  As  he:  shaved 


VIOLONCELLO    OF    JUFFROUW    ROZENBOOM     75 

Mynheer  Piepenbrink  one  morning',  he  ven 
tured  a  bold  remark.  Armed  though  he  was 
with  a  razor,  and  safe  from  Mynheer's  wrath, 
he  turned  pale. 

"  Of  course  whoever  marries  the  lady  mar 
ries,  as  it  were,  the  violoncello." 

There  was  an  awful  pause,  then  a  ray  of 
hope  illumined  Mynheer's  gloom.  Could  he 
persuade  Jan  Willem  to  marry  the  lady  out 
of  duty,  and  so  —  unhappily  he  had  educated 
him  with  his  own  horror  of  anything  femi 
nine. 

Such  was  Mynheer's  agitation  that  Duffels 
refused  to  shave  him,  so  he  resigned  himself 
in  silence  to  the  razor. 

"A  violoncello  will  last  for  centuries,"  said 
Duffels,  "while  a  woman —  I  Ic  waved  his 
razor  lightly  to  typify  the  transitory  nature 
of  her  career.  "What  remains?  The  vio 
loncello."  Juffrouw  Rozenboom  had  been 
heard  to  cough,  and  it  was  on  the  strength 
of  that  cough  that  the  doctor  decided  to  dare 
anything,  Duffels  said.  As  for  the  Burgo 
master,  a  previous  matrimonial  experience 
more  than  encouraged  him.  "  What  they 

«_>  ^ 

can  do,  Mynheer  can  do,"  and  he  soaped  him 
tenderly. 


jC>  KITYVYK    STORIES 

"  I)iit  she  can't  marry  all  three  of  us," 
groaned  Mynheer. 

"  Mynheer,  women  are  the  greatest  iools. 
'1  hey  '11  believe  anything".  Tell  her  you  like 
her,  and  say  nothing  about  the  old  fiddle. 
She  '11  marry  you,  and  you  '11  have  the  vio 
loncello,  and  you  '11  have  been  polite.  For 
she  has  a  tender  heart,  and  it  hurts  her  to 
think  that  they  only  come  courting  the  vio 
loncello. — \\  hen  it  is  over  he-  will  be  thank 
ful,"  he  consoled  himself,  "and  alter  he  is 
once  married  he  won't  know  how  she  looks." 


IV 

MYMII.KR  PiKi'KNhKiXK  was  the  victim  of 
passion.  In  three  weeks  he  had  faded  to  a 
yellow  gray,  and  his  cheeks  hung  dabby. 

I  hiitels  stood  before  him.  A  forsaken  rusk 
soaked  in  a  tall  china  cup,  and  the  only  merry 
thing  in  the  room  was  the  alcohol  flame  un 
der  the  tea-urn. 

"  \  ou  are  sure  you  told  her  that  under  no 
circumstances  can  1  possibly  come  courting  ?" 

"  Yes.   Mynheer." 

"l>ut  I  am  in*  nearer  the  violoncello," 
groaned  the  distracted  man. 


VIOLONCELLO    OF    JUFFROUW    ROZKNBOOAI     77 

"When   you  arc- — are   married." 

"What  will  Jan  Willcm  say — Jan  Willcm, 
who  was  never  to  fall  in  love?" 

"  But  Mynheer  is  not  in  love." 

"That  is  true,  Duffels." 

"Mynheer  pines  for  a  violoncello,  and  the 
price,  as  it  were,  is  an  estimable  lady  who 
is  so  little  attractive  that  really  — " 

"  But  what  will  Kitwyk  and  Ketwyk  say  ?  " 
moaned  the  agonized  suitor. 

"  Mynheer,  what  does  the  doctor  care,  or 
the  Burgomaster  !  Has  Mynheer  not  noticed 
their  courting?  Have  they  not  publicly 
placed  her  pail  under  the  pump  ? " 

"O  Lord!  O  Lord!  I  should  die  of  a 
wedding !  " 

"A  wedding  is  not  necessary."  Mynheer 
stared  aghast.  "  I  mean  she  will  go  with 
Mynheer  wherever  he  wishes  to  get  married." 

"Good  Lord!   that  will  be  an  elopement?" 

"  Oh,  no,  Mynheer,  only  a  convenience  at 
your  age  !  " 

The  toils  were  closing  about  him. 

"This  will  kill  me,  Duffels;  and  what  will 
Jan  Willem  say  ?  " 

"  It  will  be  a  warning  to  him,  and  that  is 
something." 


7-S  KITWYK    STOKIKS 

"  Hut —  hut  no  courting!" 

"  rhere  is  no  need,   Mynheer." 

"Anil  —  and  if  she;  insists  on  having  me, 
she —  she — must  make  all  the;  arrangements 
herself." 

"  "\  cs,   Mynheer." 

"I  —  I  can't  he  troubled;  my --my  pulse 
-why,  1  have  n't  any!"  and  he  pulled  a 
gold  turnip  out  of  the  pocket  of  his  capacious 
breeches. 

"Perhaps  because  Mynheer  is  feeling  of 
the  arm  of  his  chair,"  Duffels  suggested 
mildly  ;  then,  as  a  messenger  of  love,  dis 
creetly  withdrew. 

Those  were  terrible  days  for  Dutfels  !  Xot 
only  was  he  obliged  to  shave  Kitwyk,  but  he 
had  to  go  courting  —  and  how  masterly  he 
did  it. 

"  1  le  is  dying  to  marry  you,  futfrouw,"  he 
declared  rapturously.  "He  will  go  with  you 
to  the  ends  of  the  earth  —  truly  he  will. 
Only  name  the  day." 

"  I  low  he  loves  me  ! 

"Truly  he  does,  strange  as  it  may  seem,'' 
he  assented. 

"()  foris,  unselfish  one1'  'I "hen  she  smiled 
inquiry  on  her  humble  friend.  "Sweet  are 


VIOLONCELLO    OF    JUFFROUW    ROZENBOOM  79 

the  messages  you  bring,  Duffels ;  but  why 
through  you  ?  " 

"  'Tell  her  just  what  I  feel ;  you  will  do  it 
so  much  better  than  I  should, 'he  always  says, 
Juffrouw." 

"  But  if  we  never  see  each  other,  how  are 
we  to  -  She  paused  in  modest  confusion. 

"To  get  married,  Juffrouw?  Take  him 
away,  and  marry  him.  All  he  needs  is 
energy." 

"Marry  him?      How,  my  faithful  friend?" 

"  Leave  it  to  me,  Juffrouw.  I  will  bring 
him  at  the  right  time ;  all  you  need  to  do  is 
to  be  ready." 


SUMMER  glided  into  autumn ;  the  marsh- 
grass  turned  dun  color,  and  there  was  a 
hollow,  cold  twang  to  the  thrum  of  the 
bull-frogs.  The  good  folks  of  Kitwyk  ac 
knowledged  a  change  of  season  by  substitut- 

O  O  J 

incr  hot  OTO^  for  cold. 

O  c>         o 

An  air  of  mystery  brooded  over  the  musical 
evenings  of  Mevrouw  van  Laan.  Young  Jil- 
lis  perpetrated  her  false  notes  with  a  new  air 
of  abstraction.  Mevrouw  still  slumbered  un 
conscious  while  a  big  young  man,  planted  in 


KITWYK    STORIES 
;i   stiff  cliair,    his    i>Teat    feet   creakuv>~   (>n    th< 


at  the  nape  ol  a  white,  round  neck  with  its 
golden  tendrils  ol  curls. 

fan  \Yillt-m  did  not  put  his  ecstnsy  into 
words,  but  it  helped  him  to  survive  the  music, 
accompanied  though  it  was  by  remorse  as  lie 
^razed  at  his  unconscious  uncle.  1  )id  he  al 
ready  suspect,  and  was  that  the  reason  that  ol 
late:  he  had  ^rown  so  ill-tempered  and  ha^- 
^"ard  ?  One  day  he  blurted  out,  "fan  \Yil- 
lem,  keep  your  passions  under  control  !  Jan 
\Villem  was  about  to  confess  all,  but  the 
worthy  man  had  lied,  and  he  was  left  to 
ponder  on  his  traitorous  design  to  introduce 
into  their  blameless  masculine  lives  a  youn^ 
person  with  yellow  hair  and  blue  eyes.  I  low 
to  undermine  the  cast-iron  principles  of  his 
excellent  uncle  ! 

He  was  not  the  only  one  who  threatened 
the  Ln>od  man's  repose.  Since:  the  days  of  the 
Spanish  inquisition,  even  in  the  days  of  the 
Spanish  inquisition,  Kitwyk  took  an  afternoon 
nap  from  three  to  five;  not  even  the  terrors 
of  the  stake  could  alter  that  commendable 
custom,  and  the  peaceful  conscience  of  Kitwyk 
was  manifested  in  one  simultaneous  snore. 


VIOLONCELLO    OF    JUFFROUW    ROZF.NBOOM     Si 

The  most  arrant:  gossip  was  then  asleep,  and 
it  was  with  perfect  security  that  Jullrouw  Ro- 
zenboom  swayed  toward  the  pump  at  filteen 
minutes  past  three,  in  company  with  her  pail. 
A  shadow  fell  across  her  path ;  she  started 
and  faltered,  but  it  was  only  a  stray  donkey 
browsing"  placidly  on  the  grass  between  the 
cobblestones.  Another  shadow  —  she  was 
not  mistaken.  Before  her  stood  a  bottle- 
green  apparition  in  yellow  breeches  and  a 
red  face.  It  wras  Mynheer  Defregge,  the 
Burgomaster,  in  such  agitation  that,  manlike, 
he  turned  his  rage  on  the  first  object  that 
acted  as  a  safety-valve,  which  happened  to 
be  the  innocent  grazer,  who,  unconscious  of 
offense,  was  pursuing  his  winding  way  among 
the  grass  tufts,  which  planted  him  directly 
between  his  Worship  and  the  lady,  where  he 
took  a  stubborn  position. 

"  Shoo  !  "  cried  Mynheer  Defregge. 
The  donkey  edged  a  trifle  out  of  the  way, 
and  so  they  met. 

"  Duffels  gave  me  your  message,  Mynheer." 
"  Have  you  made  up  your  mind,  Juffrouw?" 
The  lady  clasped  her  hands  and  looked  to 
ward  heaven.      "  It  is  a  great  responsibility, 
Mynheer.      I    have     no    one    to    advise    me. 


8^  KITU'YK    SI  <>l<  IKS 

Other  young    persons  have   a    mother;    I  -- I 
-have,   only   a    heartless   brother." 

"  \  on  have  a  great-uncle  on  your  mothers 
side."  Mynheer  Defregge  was  always  pain- 
hilly  exact.  Here  the  donkey,  whether  from 
sympathy,  or  because  he  thought  the  afflicted 
l.uly  was  hiding  something  especially  juicy  in 
the  way  ol  grass,  butted  against  her.  "det 
out  ot  the  way!  '  roared  his  Honor.  "  [ut 
Irouw,  you  have  a  most  miraculous  chance  ! 
You  are  not  young  nor  beautiful  nor  rich,"- 
a  light  in  the  lady's  pensiye  gaxe  might  have 
warned  a  less  exact  man.  "Mynheer  I'iepen- 
brink  wishes  to  marry  you — then,  in  Hea 
ven's  name,  marry  him  !  I>ut  you  would  he 
ashamed  to  enter  his  house  with  empty  hands. 
IHess  you  !  money  makes  no  woman  less  de 
sirable.  A  gay  plumage  has  made  fair  many 
an  old  bird."  'I  his  metaphor  seemed  to 
strike  the  lady  unfavorably. 

'Your   proposal    is   not    the   only  one,"  she 
retorted,  bridling. 

"So   there   have   been   others,    have   there? 
Well,    blexem  '      I    "il    double   'em,    and    we   '11 
see  what   he   says   to   that;    for  have   it  I  will, 
Juftrouw,  or  I  'm  not  Burgomaster  of  Kitwyk! 
And   down  he  thumped  his  cane,  so  that   the 


VIOLONCELLO    OF    JUFFROUW    ROZKNHOOM     83 

donkey  lied  in  nervous  alarm,  and  the  lady 
was  left  alone  to  pump  two  or  three  gallons 
of  water  over  her  feet  in  the  sweet  perplexity 
of  her  thoughts. 

VI 

THREE  days  after,  Duffels,  with  his  shaving- 
tools,  appeared  before  Mynheer,  who  gazed  at 
him    with   lack-luster   eyes.      "And  —  and - 
well,  Duffels  — what?" 

"  She  says  she  is  walling  to  follow  Mynheer 
to  the  ends  of  the  earth." 

A  despairing  groan  was  the  only  answer 
to  this  passionate  message. 

"And  —  and  you  are  quite  sure  there  is  no 
other  way,  Duffels  ?  " 

Duffels  pinned  a  towel  about  the  unfortu 
nate  gentleman,  and  lathered  away  in  silence. 

"But  I--I  can't  arrange  anything;  I 
won't." 

"  Leave    it   all   to   me,    Mynheer." 

"And,  Duffels,  tell  her  — O  Lord!  O 
Lord  !  —  that  the  violoncello  must  go  too  ; 
for  if  I  don't  see  it  I  shall  lose  courage. 
And  —  and  you  say  she  likes  me  ?  " 

"Adores  you,  Mynheer." 

"Don't    put    your    shaving-brush    in    my 


«4  KITWYK    STOKIF.S 

mouth  !  Tell  her  that  she  must  not  lie  —  be 
affectionate.  I  should  die  it  she  \vciv.  It  1 
could  only  take  Jan  \Villem  alon^!"  Duffels 
shook  his  head,  with  an  air  ot  injured  pro 
priety,  and  Mynheer,  with  a  heartrending 
LH'oan,  resigned  himself  to  the  inevitable. 

Three  days  after,  the  yellow  chaise  in  the 
barnyard  ot  William  the  Silent,  the  only  rep 
resentative  of  a  vehicle  of  leisure  in  Kitwyk 
except  the  hearse:  and  an  ancient  idass  coach, 
was  roused  Irom  an  inactivity  ot  a  quarter  ot 
a  century,  and  scrubbed.  A  speckled  horse 
with  tour  stitt  le^'s  was  decoyed  into  the 
traces  by  a  measure'  ot  hay,  and  before  he 
had  finished  his  repast  he  found  himself  a 
prisoner. 

That  afternoon,  with  his  last  independent 
breath,  Mynheer  Piepenbrink  gasped,  "  It 
that  violoncello  is  not  where  I  can  see  it,  I 
shall  not  <^o."  This  message,  in  sweet  dis 
guise,  was  borne  to  the  lady. 

''P>ut,  Duffels,  it  he  loves  me,  why  can- 
about  such  a  trifle:1"  she  ur^'ed. 

"  Let  him   have  his  way  it    you  want  him." 
"  Hut,   l)iiffels,  my — my  trunk." 
"There   is  only  room   for  the   violoncello." 
Duffels  was  losing  patience. 


VIOLONCELLO    OF    JUFFROUW    KOZENl'.OOM     85 

So  Juffrouw  Rozenboom  resigned  her  ward 
robe  in  favor  of  her  lover. 

It  was  a  chilly  autumn  night,  and  the  moon 
glided  in  and  out  of  a  curdled  sky.  The  lane 

o>  ^ 

toward  Ten  Brink  was  piled  high  with  fallen 
leaves,  and  the  air  was  chilly  with  cold  and 
decay.  An  unenthusiastic  horse  trundled  a 
vehicle  over  the  soggy  leaves.  The  chariot 
pounded  slowly  along,  and  the  speckled 
horse,  with  open  pink  nostrils,  communed 
with  himself,  head  downward.  He  was  fly 
ing  toward  happiness  at  the  rate  of  two  miles 
an  hour,  and  that  with  so  pleasing  a  motion 
that  Duffels,  astride  his  back,  was  snoring 
peacefully,  with  the  consciousness  of  having 
brought  a  good  matter  to  a  satisfactory  con 
clusion. 

The  carriage  was  vastly  like  a  sedan-chair 
on  wheels,  with  a  window  on  each  side  and 
one  in  front,  against  which  loomed  the  tail  of 
the  speckled  steed  and  the  rear  of  the  sleep 
ing  Duffels.  A  silhouette  of  landscape,  wind 
mills,  sail-boats,  and  ghostly  houses  lumbered 
heavily  by,  and  sometimes  the  moon  peeped 
in  with  ladylike  discretion.  A  dark  figure 
cowered  in  one  corner,  while  the  occupant  of 
the  other  swayed  gently  toward  it. 


K1TWYK    STORIES 


"  Mynheer  Joris  —  my  own  —  \\'ill   you    not 
speak  ?  " 

"  Xo  —  no,"  a  strangled  voice  piped  in  an- 


"  Lccentric  dear  !  "  the  lady  murmured,  with 
heroic  suavity. 

Mynheer  Piepenbrink  cast  liis  eyes  in  de 
spair  on  the  ponderous  case  ol  the  violoncello 
between  them.  "  1  )on't  —  don't  you  come 
any  nearer!  Little  Peter  and  Paul!"  In  his 
anguish  he  overturned  tin:  violoncello,  which 
tell  heavily  into  his  arms.  I  Ie  clasped  it  in  a 
passionate  embrace.  "One  little;  look  at  it, 
(uttrouw,  only  one." 

"Is  it  not  sutticient  to  look  at  the-  case, 
Joris  dear?"  she  faltered. 

"  \Vhy  did  I  ever  come  ?  "  cried  the  afflicted 
gentleman.  "Good  Lord,  help  me!  he 
groaned;  and  just  then,  as  it  divine  Providence 
had  nothing"  else  to  do  than  to  answer  Myn 
heer's  petitions,  there  ensued  a  convulsion  <»t 
nature,  the  chariot  ot  William  the  Silent  sta- 
leered,  reeled,  and  the  next  mome:nt  plunged 
into  an  internal  abyss. 

The  mottled  horse,  of  course',  L^ave  no  ex 
planation  of  the  disaster.  I  hiftels  \\-as  the  tirst 
to  recover  himselt.  I  Ie  had  trusted  too  much 


VIOLONCELLO    OF    JUFFROUW    ROZENBOOM     87 

to  the  instinct  of  this  worthy  steed  and  the 
harmony  and  method  of  his  progress ;  he  had 
not  taken  into  consideration  the  tantalizing 
tufts  of  grass  along  the  road  bordering  a 
ditch,  muddy,  but  fortunately  low  of  water. 
Uncontrolled  by  the  slumbering  Duffels,  the 
excellent  quadruped  nibbled  his  way  too  near 
the  edge,  with  the  above  result. 

Mynheer,  having  assured  himself  that  he 
was  still  alive,  groped  out  of  the  ditch,  and 
with  the  help  of  Duffels  rescued  the  lady. 

The)-  had  fallen  two  feet  into  the  ditch,  but 
lor  all  the  purposes  of  a  tragedy  it  might  just 
as  well  have  been  two  hundred. 

"  O  Joris,  you  are  not  dead  !  "  and  she  laid 
her  battered  bonnet  on  his  unresponsive  shoul 
der. 

Mynheer  placed  his  fair  burden  on  the  edge 
of  the  ditch  with  more  emphasis  than  affection. 

"  Good  Lord  !  lie  cried  suddenly,  with 
something  akin  to  emotion,  "  where  is  the 
violoncello  ?  " 

The  moon  having  taken  this  opportunity  to 
withdraw,  the  scene  was  shrouded  in  gloom, 
enlivened  only  by  the  sobs  of  the  lady  and  the 
crunching  of  the  cause  of  the  disaster,  as  he 
cropped  the.-  grass  on  the;  bank. 


KITWYK    ST< 

For  fifteen  minutes  Mynheer  strolled  with 
a  tinder-box;  then,  aided  by  Ihiflcls's  lamp, 
he  discovered  the  beloved  form  in  the  ditch, 
into  which,  unmindful  ot  danger,  he  descended. 

Jufirouw  Ro/enboom,  on  the  brink,  sat  as 
it  petrified  until  out  ot  the  Ldoom  emerged 
one  short,  stout  figure  bearing  another.  The 
first  was  the  heroic  Juris,  the  other  the  pre 
cious  instrument.  He  laid  it  tenderly  on  the 
bank. 

"It  it  should  have  been  hurt!  ()  Lord! 
(  )pcn  it,  luttruuw  !  " 

"  Xot  now  !  "  she  gasped.  "  I  —  1  know 
I  am  L^oinv'  to  taint  ! 

Hut  pity  and   Mynheer   were  strangers;    he- 
watched  her  with  a  cold  and  fishy  eye.     "(  )pcn 
it  at  once,   juftromv  !         IJut   fuftrouw  Ro/en 
boom    only    moaned    and    rocked    to   and   iru. 
"  (  )pen  it,  or  I  '11  - 

The  lady  shrieked  and  Mynheer  grasped 
the  case  weakened  by  disaster;  the  battered 
lock  <rave  way;  the  moon  came  out  ot  the 
clouds;  d'-adly  silence  ;  then  "Dunder  and 
blexcm  !  \\nat  in  the  devil's  name  do  you 
call  this?"  and  he  pulled  out  just  the  sweet 
est  spriv^ed  delaine  —  her  weddin^-^'own, 
poor  dear!  It  hun^"  all  limp  trom  his  hand, 


VIOLONCELLO    OF    JUFFROUW    ROZENHOOM     89 

and  upside  down,  but  his  heart  was  unmoved. 
''And  this?"  and  out  he  tore  a  lovely  green 
coal-scuttle,  wreathed,  like  a  young-  Hope, 
in  pink  roses. 

The  afflicted  lady  shrieked  again  as  her 
wardrobe  sank  at  her  feet. 

"Where  is  the  violoncello,  madam?" 

"Joris!"  — and  the  lady  wrung  her  hands 
-  "  I  wanted  to  be  a  credit  to  you  on  our 
wedding-day  !  " 

Here  Duffels  interposed,  with  an  ingratiat 
ing  smile.  "  If  Mynheer  will  help  raise  the 
carriage  we  will  go  on." 

"Where  is  the  violoncello,  madam?" 

She  sobbed  dismally. 

"Where  is  it?" 

"  O  Joris  —  I--I  —  it  's  —  sold!" 

"Sold!" 

"I  —  I  was  so  sure  you  'd  want  me  to  look 
nice,  and  it  just  bought  the  sprigged  delaine 
and  the  bonnet." 

Duffels  righted  the  carriage,  and  backed  the 
unwilling  steed  into  the  traces. 

"Shall  we  go,   Alynheer?" 

"  Go  where  ?  " 

"  To  Sippken." 

"What  for?" 


90  K1TWYK    STOKIKS 

"\Vhy,  to  be  married,  Mynheer." 

"  \\'hat !  I  married!  I  married  without  the 
violoncello  !  Xever  ! 

"  ()  Joris,  you  have  no  idea  how  well  I  look 
in  that  dress!"  Jultrouw  Rozenboom  moaned. 

"  1  married  !  '  he  interrupted  most  cruelly. 
"  \\  hy,  but  tor  this  blessed  accident  1  should 
have  been  sacrificed.  I  married!  I  '11  l>e 
d—  -  il  I  will  !  "  And  without  another  word 
Mynheer  turned  his  back  upon  his  shattered 
hopes,  and  with  heroic  purpose  he  proceeded 
to  trudge  home  tile  two  wear)'  miles  he  had 
come. 

VII 

lb>w  Duffels  returned  with  the  iorsaken 
lady  is  not  stated.  The  mottled  steed,  with 
his  knees  rasped,  and  the  vehicle  were  tound 
at  mi(  ni^'ht  hitched  to  William  the  Silent. 

Lon^'  belore  dawn  fan  \\Tillem  was  roused 
by  a  feeble  knock  at  the  trout  door.  I  Ie  lis 
tened  with  commendable  prudence  for  halt 
an  hour,  then  descended  in  company  with  a 
1  ilunderbuss. 

"  [an  \Yillem,  it  is  I.   I'ncle  Piepenbrink." 

A  taint  but  familiar  voice.  fan  \\illem 
grasped  his  musket,  and  applied  his  eye  to 


VIOLONCELLO   OF   JUFFROUW    ROZENBOOM     91 

the  keyhole,  but  saw  only  what  afterward 
proved  to  be  Uncle  Piepenbrink's  eye.  With 
heroic  firmness  he  opened  the  door  just  a 
crack,  the  muzzle  of  the  blunderbuss  well  out, 
and  stao^ered  back  at  sitzht  of  his  own  eini- 

o  o  o 

nently  respectable  relative  standing  before 
him,  footsore  and  dirty. 

"  Uncle,  where  have  you  been  ?  " 

"  To  the  devil !  "  the  misguided  man  all  but 
sobbed. 

"  When  —  when  did  you  go  ?  "  and  Jan  \Yil- 
lem  followed  him  up-stairs. 

"At  fifteen  minutes  past  seven  last  night." 

"Why,  then,  you  don't  know  —  then  you 
have  n't  seen  — 

Uncle  Piepenbrink  was  already  staring  as 
at  an  apparition.  It  was  not  the  red  feather 
bed  which  petrified  him,  nor  the  leather  arm 
chair,  nor  his  carpet  slippers,  nor  the  familiar 
row  of  clay  pipes,  but,  supported  by  a  chair, 
languishing  against  the  bed,  there  stood  a 
violoncello  ! 

Mynheer  gasped.      Then  he  spoke  : 

"  What  does  it  mean  ?  " 

It  was  the  Rozenboom  violoncello.  The 
next  moment  he  held  it  in  his  arms. 

Jan  Willem  gazed  at  the  floor  with  a  vague 


KITWYK    STORIES 


smile.  "  I  wished  to  give  you  a  little  sur 
prise,  uncle.  I  found  out  how  much  you 
wanted  it." 

Mynheer  took  a  frightened  breath,  as  one 
who  has  been  perambulating'  on  the  brink  of 
a  precipice. 

"  I  thought  if  I  should  give  you  a  little 
pleasure  you  might —  you  might- 

"And  it  is  Irom  you,  Jan  \Villem?  And  I 
am  to  have  this  precious  instrument — with 
out  her?  The  Lord  be  thanked!" 

fan  \Villem  turned  pale. 

"Oh,  no  —  no — not  without  her  !  That  is 
just  what  1  wished  to  explain,  uncle.  1'or, 
don't  you  see,  I  love  her,  and  she  loves  me, 
and  I  thought  —  that  is,  she  thought  - 

"Love  her?  ( iot  you  in  her  clutches,  too? 
Hut  why  was  she  so  ready  to  fly  with  me?" 

"  To  tly  with  you  .J  "  and  fan  \Villem  stared, 
aghast. 

"  fan  \Villem,  be  warned!  At  quarter  past 
seven  last  night  she  and  I  were  in  the  chaise 
of  William  the  Silent,  and  she  would  have 
been  Mevrouw  I  Mcpenbrink  by  this  time 
had  it  not  been  for  circumstances  over  which, 
thank  God,  we  had  no  control." 

"Jillis  —  you  and  Jillis/    Never!"  and  Jan 


VIOLONCELLO    OF    JUFFROUW    ROZF.XBOOA1     93 


JII.IJS. 

Willcm  choked  with  something  approaching 
rage. 

"  In  the  devil's  name  !     I  and  what?    Little 
Jillis  van  Laan  ?      Why,  the  boy  is  just  mad! 
Blexem  !      I  see  !      I  see  !     There  is  no  need 
of  being  jealous,    }an  Willem,    for  —  well  !  - 
it  was  —  some  one  else!" 


•  4  KITYVYK     STOKIKS 

"  Tncle,  where  have  you  been  .J  " 

Ileen   indeed  ! 

1  lis  narrow  escape  intoxicated  him  ;  he  was 
almost  lively. 

"  Jlcen  courting,  have  you?  And  I  was  to 
be  bribed,  you  rog'iie  ?  Jilhs's  [)lan,  I  '11  waiter. 
\  et  surprises  are  dangerous,  Jan  \\"illem. 
Hut  tor  a  special  act  ot  Providence  you  would 
have  had  an  aunt,  to-day," —  he  heaved  a  sieji 
of  gratitude, —  "and,  after  all,  a  niece  is  no 
thing  compared  to  an  aunt.  So  take  my 
blessing,  [an  \\illem,  and  close  the  door,"- 
hich  he  did  in  painful  perplexity. 

Ten  minutes  after,  buried  under  a  mountain- 
feather-bed,  Mynheer  forgot  the  disasters 
out  of  which  he  had  so  heroically  rescued  him 


OILS 


Mynheer  never  divulged  the  solitary  ro 
mance  ot  his  placid  career,  but  he  cherished  it 
in  secret.  1  laving  so  nearly  sacrificed  himselt 
for  one  of  the  tine  arts,  in  future  he  considered 
himself,  with  reason,  as  the  patron  of  all  the 
tine  arts  as  encouraged  in  Kitwyk.  '1  he  art 
ist  who  was  intrusted  with  the  new  si^n -board 
for  William  the  Silent  also  painted  the  por 
trait  of  Mynheer  playing  the  Ro/enboom  vio 
loncello.  Henceforth  he  played  with  new 


VIOLONCELLO    OF    JUFFROUW    ROZKNP.OOM     95 

feeling-  which  even  deceived  himself,  as  if  there 
were  a  blighted  something1  within  him  which 

O  O 

found    its   fittest   expression   when   he  wailed 
across  the  strings  long  and  sad  and  flat. 


JUFFROUW   VAN    STKKX 


HKX  Mynheer  van  Steen 
oi  Kitwyk  spoke  ot  the 
LH'eat  I  )c  Keyser  of  I\ot 
terrain  he  seemed  to 
melt  together  in  abject 
humility.  There  were 
two  things  about  which  he  Ln~ew  almost  po 
etic:  a  youn^'  herring  of  the  first  precious 
hatch,  unsophisticated  and  tender,  for  which 
his  Majesty  of  1  lolland  inves  a  gratuity  of 
five  hundred  guilders,  and  —  Mynheer  do 
Koyser. 

Such  a  herring  nestling  beside  a  pickled 
onion  brought  tears  to  his  eyes,  and  he  would 
say,  as  he  gulped  down  the  tenderest  part, 
"If  Mynheer  de  Keyser  were  only  here.! 
It  was  understood,  if  that  illustrious  man  ever 
did  come  to  Kitwyk,  the  festivities  would  be 
worthy  of  the  distinguished  visitor  and  of 
Mynheer  van  Steen.  It  was  Mynheer  de 


JUFFROUW   VAN   STEEN  97 

Keyser  who  bought  his  tobacco  and  sold  him 
his  groceries,  and  in  his  day  Nicodemus  de 
Kcyser  had  turned  his  guilders  to  so  good 
an  account  that  Van  Steen  grew  quite  faint 
in  the  contemplation  of  that  rather  unsteady 
signature,  representing,  as  it  did,  fabulous 
wealth. 

Mevroiuv  van  Steen  had  faded  out  of  the 
world  after  bringing  Juffrouw  Mettje  into  ex 
istence,  the  only  change  for  Mynheer  being 
that  in  future  he  played  his  nightly  games 
of  cards  with  his  sister,  Aunt  Jetta.  They 
played  for  a  penny  a  game,  and  when  he  had 
bad  cards  he  lost  his  temper,  but  Aunt  Jetta 
was  always  placid.  Never  was  the  purple 
bow  stirred  that  rested  lightly  on  the  parting 
of  her  brown  front. 

Early  in  life  Aunt  Jetta  had  resigned  her 
self  to  playing  cards  with  her  brother  and  lis 
tening  to  Qflowinpf  accounts  of  how  Mynheer 

o  *±>  «>  J 

de  Keyser  would  be  received  should  he  ever 
come  to  Kitwyk. 

"  How  I  long  to  see  him  !  "  Mynheer  cried 
with  enthusiasm.  For  forty  years  he  had 
loved  and  trusted  the  great  man  simply  by 
mail.  "A  man  so  rich  must  be  good  and 
wise,"  he  exclaimed,  and  he  meant  it,  did 


98 

Mynheer  van  Stccn.  The  good,  the  true, 
and  thr  beautiful  were  all  represented  to  him 
by  his  ideal  ot  Mynheer  de  lve\ MT. 

One  day  Mynheer  received  a  joyful  shock. 
It  made  the  sheet  o!  letter-paper  in  his  hand 
rattle,  lor  the  illustrious  I  )e  I\c\  ser,  alter  cer 
tain  orders  relative  to  tobacco,  added,  with 
out  lalse  sentiment,  postage  being  dear,  that 
having  heard  much  ot  the  charms  ol  (ultrouw 
Mettje  van  Steen,  and  bring  lonely  in  his  big 
house  on  the  Boompjes,  he  would  do  himsell 
the  honor  ot  offering  her  his  hand  in  marriage. 

Mynheer  sank   back    in    his    leathern    arm 
chair   in    ecstasy;    then    he    rang   a   band-bell, 
and    Aunt    jetta    appeared. 

"Mynheer  de  Keyser  — 

"Hear  me,  de;ul  ?  "  Aunt  fetta  suggested 
[)lacidly. 

••Dead!"  Here  be  laughed.  "Well,  hardly. 
Prepare  yourself  lor  joyful  news.  Jetta.  Myn 
heer  de  Keyser  desires  to  marry  again." 

"Marry  again  ?  "  Aunt  Jetta  repeated,  and 
flushed. 

"Marry,  yes,  marry.  l>e  joyful  —  lie  wishes 
to  marry  our  Mettje." 

Aunt  Jetta  folded  her  hands  and  was  dis 
tinctly  icy  in  her  joy. 


VINT     I  •:  I  I   \    KOI. DHL)    HI.:    HANDS    AM)    WAS    DISII.NCn 


JUFFROUW  VAN   STEEN  99 

"  Call  Mettje  ! "  And  Mynheer  strode 
along"  the  polished  floor  until  his  felt  slippers 
flapped  up  and  down  in  agitation. 

"  How  sweet  it  sounds  —  Mevrouw  de  Key- 
ser  !  Some  day  —  yes,  some  day  I  may  hope 
to  say  to  him,  '  Nicodemus.'  There,  call 
Mettje.  Imagine  her  joy  !  " 

"Joy!  Humph!  Think  of  his  age.  Joy? 
Seventeen  and  seventy  !  Well,  hardly." 

So  short  did  Mynheer  stop  in  his  career 
that  for  a  second  his  coat-tails  lay  outspread 
on  the  air. 

"Jetta,  a  De  Keyser  has  no  age.  He  is 
always  beautiful,  good,  and  young.  As  long 
as  he  lasts  he  is  always  a  princely  match.  If  he 
had  only  one  leg" — in  fact,  no  leirs — he  would 

y  <T>  O 

still  be  more  than  desirable.  Mynheer  has, 
God  be  praised!  all  his  faculties,  and  there 
fore —  Jetta,  don't  stand  staring;  call  Mettje." 

Mettje  looked  in  at  the  door,  and  gave  a 
doubtful  glance  at  the  family  group. 

"If,  child,  you  had  a  wish  granted  to  you, 
what  should  it  be?"  Mynheer  asked  solemnly, 
and  beat  time  with  his  forefinger  on  Mynheer 
de  Keyser's  letter. 

Mettje  leaned  her  slim  back  against  the 
door,  and  considered. 


i  ...  KITWYK    STORIES 

"There   arc:   two   tilings." 

"  But,  my  clearest  child,  it  can  he-  but  one 
thing." 

"Very  well,  then, "--with  a  sigh  of  resig 
nation:  "as  much  apple-sauce  as  I  can  pos 
sibly  eat." 

"My  innocent  child!  I  knew  you  would 
not  venture-.  There,  prepare  yourself  tor  ex 
ceeding  joy.  A  part  ot  this  letter  relates  to 
you.  1  will  read  it:  how  simple,  yet  how 
impressive!  '  1  he:  last  invoice  ot  tobacco 
was  hardly  up  to—  Xo,  that  is  n't  it. 

'  Five  hundred  pounds  ot  better  quality.'  I 
am  so  agitated,  I  really  can't  imd  it.  In 
short,  Mettje,  he  does  you  the:  honor  to 
otter  you  his  hand  in  marriage." 

"What?"  Juttrouw  van  Steen  cried,  and 
laughed  until  her  brown  eyes  glistened  with 
tears.  "Marry  me?  I  marry  Mynheer  de 
Kryser?  Why,  then  I  ^hall  have  to  call 
him  —  ha!  ha1-  -  Xicodemus." 

"  True,"  her  lather  assented  respectfully. 
T<)  him  there  could  be  nothing  ludicrous 
about  a  1  )e  Keyser. 

"How  old  is  Mynheer?"  she  asked  with 
sudden  gravity. 

"\\V11  —  in  the  prime  of  lite:,  child:  sev 
enty  or  thereabouts." 


JUFFROUW   VAX   STEEN  101 

"  Perhaps  he  might  live  ten  or  fifteen  years 
longer,  papa  ?  " 

''Twenty,"  her  papa  assented  briskly. 

"Ah,  dear  me!  that  is  just  the  trouble." 

"  What  —  what  ?  Trouble  !  You  —  you 
don't  dare  to  say,  suggest  —  where  is  your 
joy  ?  where  is  your  gratitude  ?  " 

"As  for  joy,  papa,  no  matter  about  that," 
and  Mistress  Mettje  shrugged  her  pretty 
shoulders.  "  You  can  say  to  him,  please, 
that  Juffrouw  van  Steen  is  deeply  grateful, 
and,  having  no  choice  whatever  in  the  mat 
ter,  she  accepts  his  offer  with — with  temper 
ate  rapture." 

Mynheer's  suitable  and  respectful  reply 
was  forwarded  to  Rotterdam  by  "Trekschuit" 
(canal-boat)  at  the  rate  of  about  six  miles  a 
clay,  which  is  as  fast  as  the  wings  of  love 
can  in  Holland  carry  a  declaration  of  passion. 

n 

A  HUNDRED  years  ago  it  was  a  matter  of 
some  expense  to  send  a  letter  ;  therefore  Myn 
heer  van  Steen  sensibly  prefaced  his  answer 
with  certain  business  commissions,  after  which 
he  expressed  his  joy  at  the  honor  Mynheer 


conferred  on  the  Van  Steen  family  by  desiring 
to  marry  Mistress  Mettje. 

It  was  young  Laurens  de  Keyser  who  care 
lessly  broke  open  the  five  ponderous  seals  that 
hid  so  much  information;  then  he  whistled 
so  long  and  so  loud  that  the  nine  other  clerks 
paused  in  the  scratching  of  their  several  goose- 
quills  to  look  up  in  marked  disapproval.  The 
truth  was  that  the  only  son  of  I  )e  Keyser  was 
a  black  sheep,  criminally  indifferent  to  the 
whole  Hast  India  trade.  Instead  of  writing 
at  his  desk  he  preferred  to  stroll  along  the 
canals,  his  hands  in  his  breeches  pockets,  his 
cocked  hat  on  the  back  of  his  head,  gathering 
information  from  every  vagabond  in  Rotter 
dam.  Slowly  and  stately  Mynheer  de  Key- 
ser's  great  merchantmen  sailed  down  the 
Boompjes  and  anchored  at  his  very  front 
door,  and  the  sight  of  strange  creatures  all 
nimble-ness,  earrings,  and  grins,  and  the  pun 
gent  smell  of  the  sea,  suggesting  unknown 
lands,  tilled  Laurens  de  Keyser's  mind  with 
wild  longings  tor --he  hardly  knew  what. 

"  Let  me  set:  the  world,  father.  so\v  my  wild 
oats,  come  back,  and  be  a  worthy  progenitor 
ol  I  )e  Keysers,"  Laurens  urged.  'I  his  being 
:iu  innovation  on  familv  traditions,  young 


JUFFROUVV   VAN   STEEN  103 

Lauren s  stayed  where  he  was,  and  became 
a  thorn  in  Mynheer's  flesh. 

Instead  of  writing  in  the  ponderous  ledgers 

£>  I  C5 

he  drew  fantastic  pictures  of  young  females 
on  the  precious  office  paper-- young  females 
not  without  interest  to  the  other  clerks,  but 
at  sig'ht  of  whom  Mynheer  de  Keyser  and  his 
head  bookkeeper  shuddered.  If  it  be  added 
that  Laurens  owned  a  guitar  and  sang  songs 
which  made  the  respectable  echoes  of  the  old 
house  moan  and  quake  to  have  to  perpetuate 
anything  so  lively,  it  will  be  acknowledged 
that  as  a  De  Keyser  he  was  a  failure. 

Me  smiled  as  he  folded  up  Mynheer's  let 
ter,  and  murmured,  "  A  nice  young  person  you 
must  be,  Mistress  Mettje."  Then,  full  of  vis 
ions  of  compromise,  he  knocked  at  his  father's 
door. 

"  What  do  you  want,  Laurens  ?  More  mon 
ey,  more  time  for  idleness,  eh  ?  " 

The  great  De  Keyser  sat  in  a  cubby-hole 
surrounded  by  dusty  shelves  laden  with  fly 
blown  bottles  of  ancient  samples  of  everything 
under  heaven.  A  shabby  desk  beside  a  win 
dow  that  had  an  unwashed  view  of  brick  area 
and  two  chairs  constituted  the  furniture  of 
this  apartment. 


104  KITWYK    STOKIKS 

"  By  nt)  means,  lather.  Here  is  a  letter 
from  Mynheer  van  Steen." 

"  . \lxnit  what  ?  " 

"Herrings,  currants,  brown  sugar,  and" 
here    Lamvns    looked    encouragingly    at    his 
lather — "  well,  yes,  and  love." 

"  Love  J.       \\'hat  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  |  ust  what  I  say.  Now,  lather,  let  us  take 
it  easily  and  comfortably."  And,  to  begin, 
Laurens  sat  himself  astride  the  chair,  folded 
his  arms  on  the  hack,  and  smiled. 

"  It  seems,  my  dear  lather,  while  I  am  pin 
ing  lor  freedom  you  are  seeking  bondage  — 
each  to  his  taste!  It  is  not  every  son  who 
would  gracefully,  nay  joyously,  receive  a  new 
mother  ;  but  I  will  do  so  it  - 

"  If  what'" 

"  II  you  will  let  me  go  away  from  here, 
(jive  me  a  little  freedom.  I  have  never  seen 
the  world.  I  know  nothing,  I  hear  nothing. 
In  a  general  way,  I  suppose,  (iod  made  the 
world  for  a  I  )e  Keyser  to  trade  in,  and  he 
made  people  tor  a  I  )e  Keyser  to  trade  with. 
I)iit,  father."  he  added  confidingly,  ''I  am  so 
deadly  tired  of  being  a  1  )e  Keyser.  I  should 
like  a  change." 

"And   this  is  the  son   I  have   brought   into 


"THK    GKKAT    HE    KKYSKK    SAT    IN     A    (  T  HI!  Y-HOI.K.  " 


JUFFROUW   VAN  STEEN  105 

the  world  !  "  was  all  Mynheer  could  utter,  but 
his  eyes  threatened  a  coming"  storm. 

Laurens  nodded  and  sighed.  "  I  wish 
sometimes  you  had  brought  some  one  else 
into  the  world." 

"And  you  dare  to  suggest  a  bargain  with 
me  ?  Your  freedom  for  mine !  I  wish  you 
to  understand  that  if  I  choose  to  marry  again, 
you  have  nothing  whatever  to  say  about  it." 

"  But,  father,  if  I  go  away  you  will  have 
plain  sailing ;  and  if  I  stay  she  might  draw 
comparisons  —  and,  after  all,  father,  you  have 
been  younger." 

"Younger!     That  I  have  lived  to  see  this 

O 

day  !  " 

"  I  am  very  glad  of  it,  I  am  sure;  but  sup 
pose  Mevrouw  should  fall  in  love  with — me?" 

Mynheer  turned  livid  with  rage.  "  Go  to 
the  devil !  Leave  my  house  !  I  can  get  on 
without  you  ;  see  if  you  can  get  on  without 
me  !  " 

"Do  you  really  mean  it?"  And  Laurens 
rose  to  his  feet. 

"  Go  to  the  devil  !  " 

"  Ultimately,  perhaps  ;  but  I  mean  to  stop 
at  one  or  two  places  on  the  way.  Good-by, 
father";  and  young  Laurens  stepped  briskly 


io'-  KITWYK    STOKIKS 


over  the  threshold   and  departed  out  of  the 
presence   of    Mynheer. 


Tiii'.ki;  had  been  times  of  great  public  com 
motion  in  Kitwyk.  The  Spaniards  in  their 
day  had  clattered  over  the  highway,  and 
Duke  Alva  had  passed  a  night  in  the  old 
town-house  on  the  market-place;  but  even 
these  circumstances  were:  not  so  remarkable 
as  to  see  a  young  and  able-bodied  man  sit 
ting  on  a  milking-stool  in  the  meadow  sketch- 
in^  one  of  Mynheer  van  Steen's  cows.  That 
any  one  should  do  anything1  but  milk  a  cow 
was  so  absurd  that  the  cow  was  apparently 
struck  by  it,  tor  she  paused  in  the  chewing  of 
her  cud  to  contemplate  the-  artist.  In  this 
she  was  joined  by  a  small  urchin  sent  to  re 
cover  the  milking-stool,  followed  by  the  dairy • 
maid,  a  buxom  wench  in  clogs,  and  on  her 
head  a  tight,  white  cap  with  gold  ornaments 
dangling  against  her  temples. 

"  <  )uick,  Peter,  fetch  the  fulfrouw,"  she 
whispered  in  open-mouthed  wonder,  due 
equally  to  the  art  and  the  artist. 

The  message-  reached  Mistress  Mettje  thus: 


JUFFROUW   VAN   STKKN  107 

"Quick,  Juffrouw !  something  is  happening 
to  Brigitta,  the  cow,  in  the  meadow." 

Mynheer  was  just  taking  his  afternoon  nap 
when  Mettje  roused  him. 

"  Father,  come  down  to  the  meadow  ;  some 
thing-  has  happened  to  our  Brigitta."  And 
before  he  could  ask  a  question  she  was  gone. 

Mynheer  ya\vned  grievously,  took  clown  a 
rusty  old  sword,  put  on  his  cocked  hat,  and 
passed  majestically  through  the  kitchen  gar 
den  to  the  meadow,  where  danger  threatened 
Brigitta  the  cow. 

"What  are  you  doing  to  my  cow,  young 
man  ? "  he  asked,  heroically.  For  the  first 
time  the  villain  looked  up  at  sight  of  Myn 
heer  and  his  drawn  sword. 

"Making  a  picture  of  her  —  if  you  don't 
mind." 

"  Picture  of  a  cow  ?  Bless  my  soul,  what 
nonsense  !  What  '11  you  do  with  it,  eh  ?  " 

"  Look  at  it,  Mynheer." 

"  Look  at  the  picture  of  a  cow!  What  for? 
You  can't  cook  it  or  milk  it." 

"  Perhaps  I  might  sell  it." 

"  Sell  it  !  Who  'd  buy  a  picture  of  a  cow 
when  he  can  buy  a  real  one?  Listen,  Mettje, 
sell  a  picture  of  a  cow ! "  And  here  he 


loS  KITWVK    STOKIKS 

laughed  loud  and  long,  while  the  artist 
turned  hastily  about  and  discovered  three 
hitherto  unperceivcd  critics  —  a  small  urchin, 
a  lat  servant,  and  the  very  sweetest  young 
maid  in  the  world,  who  gazed  at  him  in  tin- 
most  charming1  surprise.  1  le  had  a  glimpse 
of  brown  eyes  and  chestnut  hair,  all  gold  in 
the  ripples,  a  silver-gray  gown  dashed  with 
blush-roses,  a  narrow  black  velvet  about  the 
white  throat,  and  a  hill  sleeve  that  showed 
the  fairest  round  arm. 

lo  be  laughed  at  in  her  presence  was  not 
to  be  borne.  I  le  sprung  to  his  feet,  kicked 
over  the  milking  stool,  clutched  his  sketch, 
and  with  a  hasty  "  Pardon  my  trespassing, 
Mynheer,"  turned  away  ]ust  as  Mynheer 
added,  with  renewed  enjoyment: 

"  Mettje,  paint  a  cow, —  sell  a  painted  cow! 
O  Xicodemus  de  Keyser,  what  would  you 
say  to  this  .J  " 

The  artist  of  the  cow  turned  to  catch  a 
last  glimpse  of  young  Mettje.  I  le  saw  the 
dimple  fade  out  of  her  cheek,  and  she 
sighed. 

"Mettje1  Kitwyk  !  Mynheer  de  Keyser, 
to  be  sure,"  he  thought,  tilled  with  wonder 
and  resentment.  "Are  \ou  Mynheer  van 


JUFFROUW   VAN   STEKX  109 

Steen  ?  "  he  asked  with  sudden  interest.  Myn 
heer  van  Steen  felt  that  this  was  fame. 

''Truly,  I  am  Henclrik  van  Steen  of  Kit- 
wyk,  young  man.  But  I  don't  think  you  have 
done  Brigitta  any  lasting"  harm  ;  so  do  not  be 
alarmed." 

"Then  you  must  know  old  I)e  Keyser  of 
Rotterdam." 

"  I  know  the  great  Mynheer  I)e  Keyser," 
he  replied  solemnly,  resenting  the  familiarity 
of  this  painter  of  cows.  "May  I  ask  who  you 
are,  sir?" 

"Well,  I  —  I  am  his  son's  very --yes,  his 
very  clearest  friend." 

"A  very  unworthy  young  man  he  is,  I 
have  heard  —  Mettje,  don't  pull  at  my  coat. 
Still,  he  is  a  l)e  Keyser.  As  such  he  will 
l»e  related  to  us  some  clay  through  my 
daughter  Mettje  here,  the  promised  wife  of 
Mynheer  de  Keyser." 

The  artist  of  the  cow  bowed  low,  and 
Mettje  blushed  and  dropped  a  shy  courtesy, 
while  the  dairy-maid  admired  this  slim  and 
limber  young  Mynheer. 

"And  what  may  your  name  be,  young 
man  ?  " 

"My    name,    Mynheer?       Oh,    yes,     I  — I 


i  io  KITWYK    STORIKS 

quite  forgot.  It  is  Zachary  Jansen  of  Rot 
terdam,  at  your  service." 

It  appeared  that  Zachary  Janscn  had  a  let 
ter  of  introduction  to  Mynheer  from  Laurens 
cle  Keyset",  and  he  brought  it  to  him  the 
very  next  day.  "  I  le  is  my  best  and  dearest 
friend,  and  any  kindness  you  may  show  to 
him  you  show  to  me,"  the  letter  read. 
Whereupon  Mynheer  took,  as  it  were,  a  ser 
pent  to  his  unsuspecting  heart. 

Young  Zachary  was  entertained  in  a  man 
ner  peculiar  to  Kitwyk.  Hours  at  a  time;  he 
was  invited  to  sit  on  the  settle  before  Myn 
heer's  front  door,  -from  where  there  was  an 
exhilarating  view  oi  the.-  town-pump.  Indeed, 
in  a  burst  ot  hospitality  Mynheer  nearly  in 
vited  his  young  friend  to  Sippken  on  his 
canal-boat. 

"Haste  hastens  lite,"  Mynheer  liked  to 
say;  nevertheless  as  a  rich  Hutch  merchant 
he  set  up  a  canal-boat  ot  his  own  with  a  big, 
philosophic  horse  to  trundle  it  down  the 
stream,  and  so  resigned  himselt  to  travel  at 
the:  rate  ot  a  mile  an  hour,  and  hoped  it 
might  not  be  tempting  Hivinc  Providence. 

A  svbarite  could  vearn  for  no  greater  lux- 

*•  y  o 

ury  than  to  sail  on  a  trekschuit  with   its  coxy 


JUFFROUW   VAN   STEEN  in 

cabin,  lace  curtains  to  the  windows,  plants  on 
the  sills,  easy-chairs  on  deck,  and  a  faint  line 
of  smoke  curling"  out  of  the  chimney  to  sug 
gest  culinary  possibilities.  However,  Myn 
heer  had  never  dallied  with  the  fates  more 
than  once,  when  he  went  to  Sippken,  six 
miles  beyond  Kitwyk.  On  this  occasion, 
well  wrapped  up,  with  a  stiff  glass  of  grog  at 
his  elbow,  a  pipe  in  his  mouth,  and  a  box  of 
hot  charcoal  under  his  feet,  he  sailed  all 
alone  down  the  canal,  and  discovered  that 
the  world  is  pretty  much  the  same. 

However,  when  he  really  thought  of  un 
dertaking  this  perilous  adventure  again,  his 
heart  failed  him ;  and  so  young  Zachary's 
amusement  in  the  society  of  Mynheer  con 
tinued  to  be  a  joyous  contemplation  of  the 
town-pump. 

IV 

OLD  JASPAR  was  sent  over  to  William  the 
Silent  to  fetch  Zachary's  belongings.  He 
returned  with  a  varied  collection,  among 
them  even  a  guitar  tied  with  blue  ribbons, 
which  caused  considerable  consternation  to 
the  maid  who  did  the  chamberwork ;  even 
Mettje  was  perplexed  until  Aunt  Jetta  ex- 


l  2 


KITWYK    STOR1KS 


plained.      Out  of    the  ashes  of  remembrance; 
she   produced   a   iaint    idow. 

"  I    once    knew    a     vouii!>      Mynheer    who 


played   on  just  such  a  tiling   under   my    win 
dow,"  she   sighed. 

"\\hat  K>r?"  Mett|e  asked  in  surprise. 

"   lo    tell    me,  my    dear   child,    that  —  ah  - 
that  he  loved  me." 

"Does  playing  on  that  always  mean  that 
a  youn^  Mynheer  is  in  love?"  Mettje  spoke 
with  evident  anxiety. 


JUFFKOUW   VAN   STEEN  113 

"  Yes,  nearly  always." 

"  Why  did  he  play  outside  of  the  window  ? 
He  might  have  taken  cold." 

"  He  never  did  recover,"  and  Aunt  Jetta 
sighed  heavily. 

"  Of  what,  poor  aunt  ?  " 

"  You  see,  child,  your  grandfather  was  deaf, 
a  man  of  violent  passion,  sudden  purpose, 
and  he  lived  only  for  his  tulips.  One  night 
he  thought  he  heard  something  move  among 
them  —  " 

"  Dear  Aunt  Jetta  !  " 

"He  turned  the  watering-pot  on  them  — 
on  him.  He  was  drenched  —  he  died." 

'•From  the  shock,  dear  Aunt  Jetta,  that 
night?" 

"  Not  quite."  Aunt  Jetta  heaved  a  sigh. 
"It  was  thirty  years  after,  but  I  always  felt 
sure  it  was  the  cause  of  his  death."  And  she 
dusted  the  guitar  and  felt  a  gentle  interest 
in  young  Zachary. 

"  I  wonder  if  any  one  has  played  before 
Billa's  window  ?  "  Mettje  mused. 

P>illa  de  Groot  was  her  clearest  friend  and 
the  most  enterprising  young  person  in  Kit- 
wyk.  She  had  been  to  Rotterdam,  from 
which  she  brought  fashions  that  made  Kitwyk 


H4  KITWYK    STOKIKS 

groan.  One  day  a  coffin-shaped  box  came 
by  canal-boat  and  was  borne  into  the  De 
(iroot  house.  Immediately  alter  awhil  sounds 
broke  the  stillness,  so  that  worth}-  burghers 
in  passing  paused  and  shook  their  heads.  It 
was  said  that  these  sounds  had  a  great  deal 
to  do  with  defeating"  Nicholas  de  (i root's 
heart  desire  to  be  Burgomaster  ot  Kitwyk. 

Mynheer  de  Ciroot  had  little  to  say  in  his 
own  house',  and  that  saved  him  a  great  deal 
of  exertion.  1  le  liked  to  smoke  his  long  clay 
pipe,  sit  at  the  window,  and  watch  the  canal- 
boats  pass,  and  he-  rejoiced  to  think  that  he 
was  not  on  one.  Mynheer  was  not  so  grate 
ful  for  what  he  had  in  life  as  for  what  he 
avoided.  Sometimes  when  he  had  the  energy 
he  wished  some  one  would  kindly  marry  Biila 
and  take  her  and  her  piano  away  ;  and  just 
when  it  did  seem  to  him  as  if  no  one  would 
come  to  his  rescue,  the  maid  one  afternoon 
ushered  Mynheer  van  Steen  into  the  sitting- 
re  »om. 

"What?"  Mynheer  de  (iroot  murmured. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mynheer  van  Steen.  Then 
there  was  a  long  pause,  during  which  Billa's 
father  took  a  short  nap.  from  which  he  was 
aroused  1>\  these  extraordinary  words:  "  Will 


JUFFROUW   VAN   STEEN  115 

you  bestow  on  me  the  hand  of  [uffrouw 
Billa  ?  I  shall  be  very  lonely  when  Mettje 
marries. 

"Do  you  mean  it?"  Mynheer  de  Groot 
asked  tremulously.  Mynheer  van  Steen  to 
marry  Billa  —  and  the  piano!  "My  dear 
friend,  my  dearest  friend,  take  her,  and  God 
bless  you  !  "  and  he  spoke  hurriedly  for  the 
first  time  in  his  life.  Then  it  occurred  to 
them  to  notify  Juffrouw  Billa  of  her  good  for 
tune.  The  piano  was  still  sounding-  over 
head.  The  two  old  gentlemen  shuddered  at 
the  harmonies,  and  Mynheer  gazed  at  the 
bold  suitor  with  a  wan  smile.'. 

"Don't  be  alarmed.  I  have  no  fear.  We 
will  change  all  that.  The  late  Mevrouw  van 
Steen  obeyed  me  like  a  —  a  lamb." 

Mynheer  de  Groot  vanished,  the  piano 
stopped  with  a  crash,  but  in  hardly  more  than 
a  moment  he  reappeared,  quivering,  undone ; 
even  his  lower  lip  trembled. 

"  What  ails  you  ?    Where  is  your  daughter? " 

"  My  dear,  dear  friend."  Here  he  dropped 
into  the  nearest  chair  and  groaned. 

o 

"  What  —  speak  out." 

"  It —  it  —  cannot  be." 

"  What  are  you  talking  about  ?  n 


n6  KITWYK    S'I'OK 


"  l)illa  —  clear  God  in  heaven,  that  1  should 
have  to  say  it!  Jiilla — will  —  not." 

What,  he,  I  lendrik  van  Steen  jilted  —  tossed 
aside  by  a  iool  ot  a  girl  '. 

Mynheer  spoke;  never  a  word  more,  but  he 
seixed  his  cocked  hat  and  cane,-,  slammed  the 
door  behind  him,  and  vowed  veiiLi'eance. 


Mvxm'.KK  ZACHAKY  was  a  great  acquisition, 
and  he  made  himself  infinitely  agreeable.  As 

lie  had  much  tact  and  unlimited  spare  time, 
he  talked  with  Mynheer  about  investments, 
herrings,  and  I  )e  Keyser ;  with  Aunt  fetta 
about  poetry  and  cooking  (for  she  loved 
both);  and  lie  helped  [uffrouw  Mcttje  to  water 
the  plants  and  cut  the  fruit  in  the  kitchen 
garden. 

I  )are  to  say  there  is  no  sentiment  in  a  kit 
chen  garden!  1  )id  not  Mettje  sit  on  the 
bench  under  a  peach-tree,-  and  stare  at  a  fat. 
ydlow  pumpkin  and  feel  that  her  he-art  was 
breaking  ? 

Strange  to  say,  ever)-  atternoon  before  this, 
while  Mynheer  van  Steen  took  his  nap,  and 
.Aunt  (etta's  front  reposed  on  a  bust  with 


JUFFROUW  VAN  STEEN  117 

out  features,  Mettje  with  her  garden  basket 
on  her  arm  met  Zachary  in  the  kitchen  gar 
den,  and  he  helped  her  to  gather  —  vege 
tables.  No  sentiment,  indeed  !  Why,  a  field 
of  vegetables  is  as  full  of  poetry  as  the  deso 
late  moors.  Oh,  Teltower  turnips  and  ten 
der  carrots,  Brussels  sprouts,  poetry  of  cab 
bage,  melons  in  golden  ripeness,  and  great 
black  grapes  with  a  purple  blush  !  Pumpkins 
heavy  but  precious,  yellow  pears  mellowing 
in  the  sun,  and  peaches  as  rosy  as  Mettje's 
cheeks.  No  sentiment,  indeed !  There  was 
even  shadow  to  brin^  the  sunlight  into  relief, 

o  o 

for  Mettje's  heart  was  heavy  because  Zachary 
did  not  come. 

Mynheer  van  Steen,  who  abhorred  music, 
was  awakened  the  very  next  afternoon  by  the 
tinkle  of  a  guitar.  At  first  he  thought  it  was 
an  aggressive  fly,  but  at  last  he  traced  the  ob 
noxious  sound  to  Mynheer  Zachary's  chamber 
overhead,  and  when  that  sinner  strolled  in  for 
his  afternoon  cup  of  tea  Mynheer  remarked 
that  he  should  advise  his  young  friend  to  cul 
tivate  the  acquaintance  of  Billa  de  Groot,  as 
she  made  just  the  same  damnable;  noise. 

Then  the  awful  secret  was  divulged,  and 
Mettje  heard  it. 


nS  KITWYK    STORIES 

"  f  uft  roil  w  de  (iroot,  my  old  friend  from 
Rotterdam?  I  have  seen  her  very  often  since 
I  came  here.  She  played  to  me  yesterday 
afternoon." 

Here  .Metre's  hand  shook  so  as  she  passed 
the  tea-cup  to  Zachary  that  it  played  a  tune 
of  its  own  on  the  saucer.  So,  while  she  had 
waited  in  vain  in  the  kitchen  garden,  he  was 
le  imng  over  that  dreadful  box  on  spindle  leg's 
and  gazing  into  liilla's  eye.,  ! 

Mettje  hid  behind  the  tea-kettle  and  was 
very  wretched.  Just  then  Zachary  asked  for 
more  tea,  and  as  he  held  out  his  cup  he  tried 
very  artfully  to  touch  her  slim  tinkers  with 
his  own.  1  do  not  say  that  he  had  never  be 
fore  succeeded,  onlv  this  time  Mcttje  drew 
herself  up  with  great  dignity.  P>ut  when  she 
returned  the  cup  he  looked  so  reproachfully, 
so  beseechingly  at  her,  that  she  wished  she 
had  taken  firmer  hold  of  the  saucer  even  at 
the  risk  of  meeting  the  hurried  touch  of  his 
hand,  for  it  fell  with  a  crash  and  inundated 
the  tea  caddy,  the  cookies,  the  dish  of  rock- 
candy,  and  the  sacred  tea-cloth,  and  just  then 
the  maid  came  in  with  a  letter  which  she 
placed  at  .Mynheer's  side  on  the  window-sill. 
Then  like  a  crack  of  doom  sounded  his  voice. 


JUFFROUW  VAN  STEEN  119 

"  Mettje,  my  child,  rejoice.  Mynheer  de 
Keyser  is  coining;  next  week.  In  the  mean 
time  he  sends  you  the  expression  of  his  pro 
found  esteem." 

With  one  accord  Alettje's  eyes  met  Zach- 
ary's.  She  forgot  her  anger  and  pain,  every 
thing  but  that  this  was  the  end,  and  the  roses 
faded  out  of  her  cheeks,  and  her  lips  trembled- 

"  Aha,  young  man,  you  will  meet  Mynheer 
under  particularly  pleasing  circumstances, 
lie  shall  help  you  at  my  recommendation." 
And  all  day  long  Mynheer  went  about  the 
house  murmuring,  "  Nicodemus,  Nicodemus 
de  Keyser,  my  son-in-law,"  lie  put  his  nose 
into  every  pot  and  pan,  and  was  discovered 
shining  the  little  mirror  in  the  cniest  room 

<7>  O 

with  the  tail  of  his  dressing  gown.  In  short, 
his  one  thought  was  to  make  everything 
worthy  of  the  illustrious  advent  of  Nicodemus 
de  Keyser. 

In  the  midst  of  the  expectant  joy  young 
Zachary's  face  wore  a  look  of  profound  gloom, 
so  that  at  last  Mynheer  van  Steen  remon 
strated. 

"  What  ails   you,  young  man  ?     He  happy 
Mynheer  de  Keyser  is  coming." 

1  lere  Zachary  groaned,  and  leaned  against 

J       Vz>  t_> 


i  jo  KITWYK     STORIES 

the:  table  and    played  a  tattoo  on   the  shining 
mahogany.      "The  truth  is,   I  must  L;'O  away. 

"Oh,  is  that  all?" 

"All!" 

"Well,    you   could    not   expect  to   stay    for 
ever:    the  best  of   friends  must  part."      At  this 
juncture   Mynheer  burst  into  a  ^rult   "I  law! 
haw  !       while    Zachary   stared   at   him    in    sur 
prise-. 

"  Yoimi^    man,    do   you    think    that    I    am    a 
fool  ?      I  )on't  you  suppose  I  know  that  some 
thin^  ails  you?      Shall  1  LUICSS  ?  " 

"  ( itiess  ! 

"Think  I  am   blind,  eh?      Well,  not  of  late 
years!      \OUIIL;    man,    you    are — ha!    ha! 
in    love." 

"In  love.   Mynheer  J.  " 

"Such  things  have  happened  before  —  it  's 
no  crime,"  and  he  wa^^ed  his  old  head. 

"You  are  ri^'ht,"  and  Zachary  appeared 
resigned.  "  I  am  in  love.' 

"So,  while  she  played  •  Man--,  ban;;,  b:m^.' 
and  you  'Twani^,  twan^',  twan^,'  Cupid  flew 
between,  eh  ?  \\liy  to  llea\cn,  you  fool, 
don't  you  marry  her  J  " 

Zachary  seated  himsc;lf  in  the  nearest  chair 
and  contemplated  his  worth}'  friend. 


MliTTJE. 


JUFFROUW   VAN   STKKX  121 

"  Marry  her  ?     That  's  not  so  easy." 

"  Does  n't  she  know  ?  " 

Zachary  sighed. 

"Of  course  she  knows;  I  thought  so. 
Then,  in  Heaven's  name,  of  what  are  you 
afraid  ?  " 

"Well,  of— her  father." 

"  Of  her  father  ?  A  nice  lover  you  !  Don't 
be  a  milksop  !  There,  \ve  '11  speak  without 
sentiment.  I  know  the  young  person,  and  I 
have  reason  to  believe  that  her  father  is  dy 
ing  to  get  rid  of  her.  He  loves  her,  of  course, 
but  still  she  is  too  lively  for  him.  Here  is 
your  chance." 

"  But,  Mynheer,  I  have  neither  money  nor 
position." 

"  Bah !  He  has  enough  for  all.  Listen. 
What  is  done  cannot  be  undone." 

"  I  know,  but  I  do  not  see  the  connection." 
Younir  Zachary  lacked  imagination. 

<">  J  o 

"She  is  his  only  child;  he  will  forgive  her 
even  if  she  marries  you  against  his  will.  He 
must  relent — I  will  intercede,"  and  Mynheer 
slapped  his  honest  breast. 

Zachary  leaned  back  and  ga/ed  at  him 
with  sparkling  eyes. 

"So  you  advise  me  to  —  to  — 


122  KlIAVVK    STORIES 

"  I  advise  nothing.  All  I  say  is,  the  inevi 
table  cannot  be  undone,  and  he  will  relent." 

"  I  hit  tin:  going —  that  is  not  so  easy." 

"  Listen,  Zachary.  1  will  give  you  a  proof 
ot  my  friendship.  You  shall  have  my  trek- 
schuit,  jaspar,  and  the  horse  whenever  you 
wish.  Jaspar  shall  ask  no  (juestions ;  he 
rarely  speaks,  and  he  never  thinks." 

"My  more  than  lather!  Who  would  have 
thought  to  tuul  so  much  sentiment  in  so  seri 
ous  a  man  !  " 

"Sentiment?  1  believe  you!  \\ait  until 
you  see  the  trekschuit  and  the:  little  cupboards 
tor  rum  and  gin,  and  a  charcoal  stove.  No 
thing  wanting —  all  my  own  inventions.  True 
sentiment  remembers  that  man  must  eat  and 
drink.  ( iod  bless  you,  my  boy!  The  boat 
shall  be  ready  whenever  you  are.' 

This  being  a  true  history,  it  must  be  con 
fessed  that  no  sooner  was  Zachary  in  the  cor 
ridor  than  he  shook  with  suppressed  laughter, 
while  on  the  other  side  ot  the  door  Mynheer 
>ank  back  in  his  arm-chair  and  roared  until 
the  tears  rolled  down  his  tat  cheeks. 

"And  so  tlie  piano  was  too  much  i<>r  you, 
Nicholas  de  droot?  Xow  we  shall  see  how 
vou  like:  that  other  damnable  instrument;  and 


JUFFROUW   VAN  STEEN  123 

this    time,    Mynheer,    it    is  —  ha!    ha!  —  for- 

» 
ever. 

The  next  day  Zachary  confided  to  his  be 
nevolent  friend  that  he  was  ready. 

"Ah,  you  sly  dog,  when  do  you  want  the 
trekschuit  ?  You  see  I  am  a  man  of  my 
word." 

"At  five  o'clock  to-morrow  morning." 

"  Five  o'clock  !  "  Mynheer  cried  in  dismay. 
"  Why,  old  Jaspar  never  got  up  at  five  o'clock 
in  his  life.  He  could  n't  and  he  would  n't." 

"  Shall  my  life's  happiness  wreck  on  old 
laspar?"  Zachary  demanded  with  some  re 
sentment. 

"Why  at  five?      Make  it  nine." 

"We  shall  get  no  start.  If  we  go  at  five 
no  one  but  you  will  know,  and  when  they  miss 
us  about  ten  o'clock,  why,  don't  you  see,  there 

is  n't  a  horse  in  Kitwyk  fast  enough  to  over- 

•)  » 
take  us  r 

"That  is  true.  I  will  do  more.  I  will 
bribe  Jaspar,  he  shall  have  a  new  snuff-box. 
But  one  thing  I  cannot  do  :  I  cannot  see  you 
off." 

"(rod  forbid!"  Zachary  cried  in  alarm. 
"That  would  n't  do  at  all." 

"  Well,    then,    God   be    with   you  !      We  'vc 


\24  Kl  FVYYK    STOKIKS 

all    been    young    in    our   day.      Aha,    you    sly 
rogue,  you  !  " 

VI 

Tm;  eventful  day  dawned  like  any  other 
day  except  that  Mettje  had  a  headache,  so 
Aunt  [etta  said.  Mynheer  shook  his  head  in 
disapproval  and  ate  his  breakfast  in  silence. 
lie  ate  live  meals  in  marked  displeasure,  and 
alter  a  hearty  supper  he  and  Aunt  [etta  sat 
down  for  their  nightly  game  oi  cards. 

"  I  am  glad,  fetta,  when  Mynheer  de  Key- 
ser  takes  the  child  oit  mv  hands,"  he  cried 

j 

irritably. 

"  Did  it  ever  occur  to  vou  that  Mvnhcer  is 

j  *• 

a  little  old  for  Mettje  ?  " 

"  Old  .J      )etta,  don't  you  make  me  angry  ! 
And  down  he  Hung  his  cards. 

"Yes,  old,"  Aunt  fetta  repeated  stoutly. 
"There,  take  up  your  cards  and  play." 

"  I  tell  you  a  De  Keyser  is  never  old." 

"Very  well,  then;  he  has  been  younger. 
She  will  never  love  him." 

"Love  —  love?  Did  I  ever  love  Mevrouw  ? 
Never!  But  did  n't  we  live  in  peace  and 
comfort  .J  " 

"  Vou  did." 


JUFFROUW    VAN    STKKN  125 

"Will  you  hold  your  tongue,  Jetla?" 
"There,    yes,    I    '11    stop.      Take    up    your 

cards  and  play." 

Mynheer  obeyed,  though  boiling  with  rage, 

but   as   he  had   o-ood  cards  the  wrath  in   his 

O 

face   </ave  way  to  a  look  of  pleasing  excite- 

<  •>  j  o 

ment,  in  the  midst  of  which  some  one  knocked 
with  the  knocker  against  the  front  door. 

"  Some  one  to  see  Mynheer,"  the  maid  an 
nounced  briefly. 

''This  is  no  time  to  come.  Can't  see  any 
one."  And  Mynheer  did  not  even  look  up 
from  li  is  cards. 

"Shall  I  tell  him  to  wait,  Mynheer?" 

''Tell  him  to  go  to  the  devil.  No,  tell  him 
to  wait.  I  am  busy  just  now." 

"  He  looks  accustomed  to  waiting,"  the 
handmaid  volunteered,  and  departed.  Myn 
heer  played  on.  Half  an  hour  passed,  the 
luck  began  to  turn,  and  Mynheer  lost  his 
temper.  The  door  opened  once  more.  "  If 
you  please,  Mynheer,  he  is  still  waiting.  He 
would  be  glad  if — " 

"  Get  out !  Tell  him  pretty  soon.  Impu 
dent  beggar.  Beggar,  is  n't  he  ?  " 

"Probably,  Mynheer.  He  is  shabby 
enough." 


i2(>  K1TWYK    STOKIKS 

"  Tell  him  to  come  to-morrow,"  Myn 
heer  commanded  petulantly,  and  continued 

to    play    until    there    came    another    knock    at 
the    door. 

"Come  in,  and  be  handed!"  he  roared, 
and  dashed  his  cards  on  the  table:  until  every 
thing  shook. 

(  )n  the  threshold  appeared  a  little  old  man 
in  shabby  clothes,  laded  and  snuff-strewn. 
I  le  held  a  cocked  hat  under  his  arm,  and  he: 
looked  inquiringly  at  Mynheer. 

"  I  low  dare  you  disturb  me?  What  do 
you  want?  1  )id  n't  1  tell  you  to  come  to 
morrow?  Am  I  to  have  no  peace  in  lite  — 
am  I  always  to  be  pestered?  What — what 
—  who  —  who?"  Mynheer  gasped,  deprived 
of  breath. 

The  little  ancient  man  came  a  step  nearer 
"  I  am  anxious  to  speak  to  you.  I  have 
something  of  importance  to  say  and  to  find 
out  - 

"  The  old  story!  '  Mynheer  cried,  in  unrc- 
pressed  scorn.  "\\hat  is  your  name?" 

"Pardon  my  forgetfulness.  I  forgot  —  as 
people  always  know  me.  I  am  Xicodemus 
de  Keyset"  of  Rotterdam." 

Mynheer  van  Steen  was  prostrated.      Kven 


JUFFROUW  VAN   STEEN  127 

Aunt  Jetta  stared  at  the  stranger  quite 
aghast. 

"  I  came  sooner  than  you  expected  for  cer 
tain  reasons." 

"  Heavenly  powers  !  "  moaned  Mynheer 
van  Steen.  Here  he  revived,  leaped  to  his 
feet,  flung  his  arms  about  the  struggling  vis 
itor,  and  kissed  him  on  the  top  of  his  wig. 

"  Nicodemus  cle  Keyser,  the  great,  the 
rich  De  Keyser,  so  to  receive  a  De  Key 
ser  ! "  Whereupon  he  thrust  him  into  his 
own  arm-chair,  placed  a  cricket  under  his 
feet,  then  with  a  flash  of  inspiration  he  cried : 

"  Call  Mettje.  She  is  longing  to  see  Myn 
heer.  Hurry,  Jetta ! " 

"  Hendrik,  do  not  forget  that  she  is  ill," 
Aunt  Jetta  remonstrated,  and  folded  her 
hands  on  her  knees ;  but  the  great  De  Key 
ser  interposed  shortly,  "  First  disagreeables, 
then  pleasures.  Sit  down,  Mynheer ;  you 
make  me  nervous.  I  have  reasons  for  com 
ing  without  notice  and  not  giving  my  name. 
You  may  know  that  I  have  a  son." 

Mynheer  bowed  with  respectful  commiser 
ation. 

"  He  has  run  away.  We  parted  in  anger. 
He  was  traced  to  Kitwyk.  Has  he  been 
here?  I  must  see  him  —  speak  to  him." 


12,8  KITWYK    STORIKS 

"  \o,  he  has  not  been  here;  only  a  V<T\ 
pleasing  young  triciul  ol  liis  who  brought  me 
a  \vann  letter  ol  introduction  from  your  son. 
To  be  recommended  by  a  I  )e  Ke\  ser  is 
sufficient;  tins  humble  abode:  has  been  his 
home  lor  three  weeks.  Perhaps  you  may 
know  him  —  Zachary  (ansen  ol  Rotterdam." 

"  Xever  heard  of  him.     Where  is  he  now?" 

"  I  la!  ha!  a  sly  young  dog".  1  have  reason 
to  believe  that  he  has  gone  on  a  pleasure  ex 
cursion,  in  what  I  guess  to  be  rather  pleasant 
company.  You  understand,  Mynheer;  but 
boys  will  be  boys  —  ha,  ha! 

"  I  )escribe  this  reprobate  to  me,  you  old 
fool!  '  Mynheer  de  Iveyser  roared. 

Mynheer  van  Steen  quaked.  A  terrible 
illumination  broke  upon  him,  and  it  was 
Aunt  Jetta  who  placed  a  neat  silhouette  be 
fore  Mynheer  de  Iveyser. 

"That  is  Zachary  :  he  had  it  cut  for  me 
at  the  'kirmess'  last  week,"  she  explained. 

"As  I  thought  —  my  son." 

Mynheer  van  Steen  grew  taint  with  rage 
as  he  thought  how  he  had  helped  fultrouw 
de  ('.root  to  a  I  )e  Keyset',  no  matter  how 
unworthy. 

"  And    is   it   this  voung  man  who  is  taking 


JUFFROUW   VAN   STEEN  129 

a  country  excursion  with  —  oh!"  the  indig 
nant  father  cried,  and  strode  up  and  down 
the  room. 

"  Call  Mettje !  She  must  come,  Jetta,  I 
tell  you  she  must  come,"  Mynheer  cried.  He 
would  lighten  the  blow  by  producing  a  coun 
ter  attraction.  "Yes,  you  shall  see  Mettje! 
Forget  this  wretched  youn<r  man.  I  will 

O  J  o* 

fetch    her." 

"  Hendrik,  consider  she  is  ill,"  and  Aunt 
Jetta  barred  the  way. 

"  Let  me  pass  !  " 

"Then  in  God's  name!"  And  the  old  lady 
sank  into  the  nearest  chair  and  grasped  the 
arms  for  support. 

"  Something  awful  is  going  to  happen.  O 
Mynheer  de  Keyser,  be  merciful  !  She  was 
too  young  for  you." 

"What  are  you  talking  about?  Are  you 
all  mad?"  But  before  she  could  explain 
Mynheer  burst  into  the  room,  an  open  letter 
in  one  hand  and  a  dripping  candle  in  the 
other. 

"  Mynheer  de  Keyser,"  was  all  he  could 
say  as  he  tell  into  a  chair  and  dropped  the 
candle  on  the  floor,  "  Read." 

"  My    dear    father,"    Mynheer    de    Keyser 


read,  "forLdve  me — I  love  him  —  I  cannot 
live  without  him  —  when  this  readies  you  I 
—  I  shall  he  the  happiest  inr!  in  Holland,  lor 
I  shall  he  the  wile  ol  Laurens  de  Iveyser." 

•'  Mynheer  van  Steen.  how  is  this?  You 
knew  that  my  son  had  doped  with  your 
daughter  J.  " 

"  ( )h,  no,  no!"  Mynheer  groaned.  ''It  is 
a  horrible  mistake.  I  thought — 1  had  rea 
son  to  think  he  lovcc  |ultrouw  de  (jroot.  It 
\vas  sh<;  I  suspected  —  and  she  has  lieen 
missing  all  day,"  and  he  held  his  head  in 
hi-,  hands  and  rocked  to  and  Iro. 

)ust  then  faspar  looked  cheerfully  in  at  the 
door.  "I  '\'e  come  back,  Mynheer.  Myn 
heer  /achary  sends  his  love  and  his  best 
thanks.  Me  said  it  was  the  happiest  day  ol 
his  hie  ;  so  did  the  f  utln  >uw." 

"  futlrouw  —  what   [uflrouw?  ' 

"\\liv,    fulirouw  Mettje,  ol   course." 

"  Blockhead!  And  you  let  your  master's 
daughter  run  away  in  a  boat  with  this  villain, 
and  you  did  n't  try  to  brinv;  her  back,  even 
it  —  it  you  had  to  knock  him  down?' 

I  Ins  was   too   much    tor   old    faspar. 

"  I  )id  n't  you  tdl  me  to  take  no  notice;?" 
he  demanded  in  righteous  resentment.  "Did 


JUFFROUW  VAN  STEKX  131 

you  not  say  to  me,  '  Whatever  you  see  or 
hear,  jaspar,  don't  he  surprised.  Don't  ask 
questions,  don't  notice  the  young"  folks.  It  is 
all  right '  ?  And  I  will  say,  it  was  pretty  hard 
not  to  be  surprised  when  I  saw  Mynheer 
Zachary  lift  Juffrouw  Mettje  into  the  boat. 
She  was  all  rosy  red  and  ready  to  cry,  but 
young"  Mynheer  kissed  her,  and  I  heard  him 
say:  'It  's  all  your  dear  father's  doing",  it 
it  had  n't  been  for  him  we  never  should  have 
got  away.  You  see  it  is  God's  will  Mettje.' 
So  she  wiped  her  eyes  and  was  very  happy." 

"  It  's  all  a  lie  !  Mynheer  shouted,  but 
Jaspar's  composure  was  not  to  be  ruffled. 

"And,  it  you  please,  here  's  a  letter  from 
Mynheer  Zachary,"  he  added,  and  departed. 

The  letter  was  addressed  to  Mynheer  de 
Keyser  when  he  should  arrive  in  Kitwyk. 

"  Later,  Mynheer,  you  will  explain  to  me 
your  connection  with  this  wretched  affair," 
he  said  sternly,  and  then  he  opened  the  letter. 

My  dear  father  |  Laurens  wrote  ,  you  were  very  unwise 
not  to  take  my  advice.  Had  you  granted  me  my  wish, 
Mettje,  instead  of  being  my  dear  wife,  as  she  will  be  when 
this  reaches  you,  would  have  been  my  revered  mother. 
If  you  knew  my  enchanting  Mettje  you  would  understand 
that  I  prefer  her  in  her  present  character.  Vou  must 


1 32  KITWYK    STOKIKS 

know  I  strayed  to  Kitwyk  out  of  sheer  idleness,  besides 
I  \vas  curious  to  see  the  youn^  person  who  was  will 
ing  to  he  my  step-mother.  'I'he  first  thiiu  I  did  was  to 
fall  in  love  with  her.  It  is  not  my  fault:  it  is  .Mettle's, 
ainl  even  you  will  forgive  when  you  see  her.  After  all, 
she  remains  m  the  tamilv.  and  that  is  a  threat  tiling. 
Ahove  even  tiling  thank  Mynheer  van  Steeii  lor  the  hap 
piness  he  has  conlerred  upon  us.  Without  his  aid  Mettle 
and  1  would  still  he  pining  in  Kitwyk.  and  instead  we  are 
sitting  side  hy  side  in  the  snu^^est  cahin  in  the  world,  and 
Me'.tjc's  head  is  on  my  shoulder.  ()  father,  if  you  could 
only  see  the  roses  in  Mettje's  cheeks!  Tell  Mynheer  that 
the  cupboards  were  all  he  described  —  he  was  too  thought 
ful  !  The  L^in  was  particularly  14001!  —  1401  id  as  the  advice 
and  help  of  [uttrouw  de  (I root,  which,  next  to  his  own. 
helped  to  support  Mettje  and  me  in  this  trial.  Had  1  not 
already  chosen  Mcttjc.  1  ini^ht  have  followed  his  excellent 
counsel  and  taken  juttrouw  de.  (Iroot.  hut  even  Mettje 
thought  we'd  hetter  not  change  our  plans.  It  is  the  love 
liest  morning  that  ever  dawned  —  made  just  for  Mettje 
and  me.  As  soon  as  I  have  sealed  this  letter  1  slnll  send 
it  hack  hy  [aspar  and  the  hoat.  Father,  don't  say  tiiat  I 
did  not  warn  you!  I  said  she  in i^ lit  fall  m  love  \\ith  me 
and  I  have  just  asked  her.  She  looked  up  at  me  with 
her  brown  eyes,  and  then  she  hid  her  sunny  head  on  my 
breast  and  said — Father,  pray  forgive  the  blots,  for  I 
dropped  the  pen  to  —  no  matter!  You  were  once  youn^ 
yourself  and  courted  Mevrouw.  my  dear  mother,  and  you 
know  how  it  is.  Forgive  me,  and  some  day  open  your 
h'Mil  a-'ain.  You  have  had  your  romance,  probably; 
forgive  me  mine.  If  you  only  knew  what  I  have  to  live 
tor  now  you  would  believe  me  when  I  say  that  from  this 

day  I  shall  he  another  man. 

I,  \fRK\s   UK    KKV.SKK. 


JUFFROUW   VAN   STEEN  133 

Mynheer  de  Keyser  slowly  folded  the  let 
ter  and  gazed  in  profound  scorn  at  Mynheer 
van  Steen.  The  pause  that  followed  was  sim 
ply  appalling,  but  Aunt  Jetta  broke  it. 

"  Mynheer  de  Keyser,"  she  began  quite 
calmly,  ''believe  me,  you  have  escaped  a  great 
misfortune.  What  did  you,  an  old  man,  want 
of  a  young  wife  ?  She  would  have  ruined  the 
last  of  your  life.  Be  grateful  that  your  son 
saw  her  before  it  was  too  late  for  you  both. 
You  cannot  be  heart-broken,  for  you  have 
never  seen  my  niece.  To  be  sure,  your  son 
has  run  away  with  a  pretty  girl,  but  under 
other  circumstances  this  marriage  would  have 
been  satisfactory  to  you.  Therefore  take  my 
advice,  forgive  and  forget.  Return  to  Rot 
terdam  and  receive  those  children  with  open 
arms,  and  rejoice  that  your  son  has  chosen 
the  wife  of  his  heart.  As  for  you,  brother,"- 
and  Aunt  Jetta  turned  sharply  upon  him 
where  he  sat  crushed  and  subdued, — "you 
seem  the  victim  of  a  mistake.  I  will  not  try 
to  guess  why  you  wished  the  charming  Billa 
to  run  away  with  a  young  man  of  whom  you 
knew  nothing.  As  it  was  Mettje,  however, 
who  went  instead,  I  will  tell  you  that  I  also 
helped  her  to  escape  from  a  fate  an  older  per- 


'34 

.son  would  have  welcomed."  Merc  Aunt  jetta 
courtesied  aiul  Mxnhecr  de  Kcyser  bowed 
low.  "Consider  that,  as  Laurens  says,  she 
remains  in  the  family;  ami  so.it  Mynheer  will 
graciously  forgive,  you  certainly  should,  for," 
Aunt  Jetta  concluded  dryly,  "it  was  all  your 
fault." 

"It  Mynheer  dc  Keyser  will  forgive,"  the 
culprit  faltered. 

"Alter  all,"  said  the  great  He  Keyser,  "it 
might  have  been  worse,  tor  I  shall  not  have 
to  worry  in  future'  about  getting  him  married. 
\oiir  sister,'  he  concluded,  in  an  admiring 
undertone,  "is  a  very  sensible  person." 

Indeed,  in  the  course  ot  a  week  he  found 
her  so  much  to  his  taste  that  when  he  re 
turned  to  Rotterdam  it  was  in  company  \\ith 
a  new  Mevrouw  die  Keyser.  I  o  be  sure,  not 
the  one  he  went  in  search  ot  ;  but,  as  he  ^aid 
with  great  satisfaction  to  Laurcns,  \\hen  that 
young  man  returned  from  hi->  wedding  journey 
with  Mevrouw  Mettj",  it  was  all  right,  lor 
they  had  remained  in  the  lamily.  'I  here 
upon  he  pinched  Meitje's  cheeks  until  the 
child  glowed  like  a  peach,  and  he  pinched  his 
own  Mevrouw  de  Kevser's  until  she  glowed 
like  a  winter  apple.  In  the  course  ol  tune 


JITKKOUW  \'A.\  STKKN  135 

Mynheer  Laurens  became  a  famous  merchant, 
and  he;  ended  as  Burgomaster  of  Rotterdam. 
From  being-  slim  he  grew  portly,  and  when 
he  was  in  good  humor  he  liked  to  talk  of  his 
travels.  The  best  journey  he  had  ever  taken 
was,  he  always  declared,  on  a  trekschuit. 
(i  Eh,  Me v roil w  Mettje  ?  "  he  would  cry,  and 
to  her  last  day  Mevrouw  always  hung-  her 
head  and  blushed. 

"What  is  your  opinion,  Mettje?  Were 
you  ever  sorry  ?  " 

''No,  Mynheer  —  if  you  were  not." 


WILD    HUNTSMEN    ()!• 
KITWYK 


Y'TKR  work,  pleasure  !  "   said   the    Burgo 
master,  and  invited  his  town-council   to 
go  hunting. 

Kitwyk  was  aghast.  Hunting"?  Such  a 
tiling  had  n't  licen  known  since  the  memory 
of  man. 

The  day  before  the  great  event,  Bleeker, 
the  town  notary,  called  on  each  ot  the  pro 
spective  guests;  it  was  rumored  that  in  prep 
aration  for  this  joyful  occasion  the  favored 
six  hat!  just  made  their  wills.  It  did  seem  to 
Kitwyk  as  it  it.  might  have  lieen  spared  this 
trial,  considering.  The  vacant  pulpit  of  Kit 
wyk  was  at  last  filled  l>y  a  I  )ominie,  l>ut  Kit 
wyk  had  not  yet  recovered  from  the  fatigue 
of  choosing  him.  lie  was  the  candidate  of 

O 

Mynheer  van  Steen.  and  |uffrouw  Defregge's 
young  dream  was  reah/ed  as  he  stood  in  the 
pulpit  in  his  flowing  Mack  gown,  in  the  midst 
of  garlands  of  paper  roses  lavishly  twined 


THE    WILD    HUNTSMEN    OF    KITWYK         137 

about  the  altar  by  the  righteous ;  and  when 
he  thumped  the  pulpit  cushions,  he  all  but 
thumped  on  Juffrouw  Toni's  heart  as  she  sat 
with  folded  hands,  her  blue  eyes  sparkling. 

On  one  point  the  guests  were  unanimous : 
dangers  they  might  have  to  face,  but  they  'd 
be  hanged  if  they  would  do  it  afoot.  Then, 
too,  what  \va$  there  to  shoot?  The  only 
game  known  to  Kitwyk  wras  cows. 

It  was  suspected  that  Duffels  knew, — he 
was  closely  interrogated. 

Was  there  danger  in  the  proposed  sport? 

"Not  unless  Mynheer  Piepenbrink  falls 
over  his  own  sword,"  he  replied  as  he  shaved 
that  worthy  man,  who  declined  to  go  hunting 
with  any  other  weapon  because  of  a  holy 
horror  of  fire-arms. 

It  was  an  early  autumn  morning.  The 
cocks  had  barely  crowed  when  Kitwyk  was 
up  and  the  town-pump  in  active  operation. 
Presently  the  victims  appeared,  followed  by 
the  maid-servants  bearing  the  implements  ol 
destruction,  muzzle  downwards,  as  if  for  a 
funeral. 

Mynheer  Piepenbrink,  with  heroic  resigna 
tion,  carried  his  sword,  which  got  fatally  en 
tangled  in  his  spurs.  They  all  wore  spurs 


and  pick-boots  in  honor  ol  the  occasion,  and 
Mynheer  de  (iroot,  to  protect  himsell  from 
the  bullets  ol  his  Iriends,  wore  the  helmet  ol 
one  o[  his  ancestors.  \\itli  a  rattle  of  arms 
and  a  jingling  ol  spurs  they  leaped  aboard 
the-  canal-boat.  Mynheer  de  Groot,  wisely 
deciding  that  there  was  no  immediate  dan 
ger,  took  oil  his  helmet  and  mopped  his 
head. 

Duliels  unmoored  the  slow  horse,  Myn 
heer  \'an  Steen's  [aspar  grasped  the  wheel, 
and  so  ihey  slarted. 

(  )n  deck,  around  a  table,  stood  seven  arm 
chairs.  Xot  only  were  jars  ol  tobacco  pro 
vided  and  lon;_;  clay  pipes,  but  the  kettle  was 
bo;  uiv;  on  the  brass  stove,  while  several  hi^'h- 
shonldered  bottles  made  a  friendly  picture  m 
the  midsl  ol  yello\\-  lemons  and  blue  Me  It 
sn^'ar-1  x  >\\  Is. 

It  was  the   first  si^ht    that   touched   them,— 
they  smiled. 

Mynh'-'T  Piepenbrink  relin(]iiished  the 
jjrasn  of  his  sword;  he  was  about  to  sink 
into  tlie  nearest  chair  when  a  fatal  discovery 
was  made  ;  the  jack-boots  ot  the  Seven  \  ears' 
war  were  so  petrified  by  lime  that  it  was  im 
possible  either  to  sink  or  sit,  —  they  were  all 


TIIK    WILD    HUNTSMEN    OF    KIT\VVK          139 

immolated  in  the  cast-iron  embrace  of  their 
boots.  There  was  a  ghastly  silence. 

The  trekschuit  trundled  along,  only  slowing 
up  when  the  worthy  steed  was  tempted  by 
something"  very  juicy  in  the  way  of  grass. 

In  this  supreme  emergency  Mynheer  De- 
fregge  uttered  these  bold  words :  "  Let  's 
take  them  off !  " 

An  instructive  sight  it  was  to  see  their  mu 
tual  helpfulness.  With  one  to  hold  and  an 
other  to  pull  each  was  in  turn  released,  and  the 
winds  of  heaven  played  over  their  stocking- 
feet  as  they  drank  grog  in  silent  gratitude. 

As  a  hunting  party  it  was  too  hastily  de 
clared  to  be  a  distinct  success. 

"  Blexern  !  "  cried  their  host,  "this  is  not 
hunting  !  " 

"What  is  there:  to  hunt,  Mynheer  I)e- 
fregge  ?  "  it  was  Jonkheer  van  1 ,00  who 
broke  the  painful  silence. 

"I  have  created  wild  beasts."  Mynheer 
Defregge  spoke  in  conscious  triumph. 

Tt  was  a  pleasant,  uncertain  day.  The  sun 
light  was  tempered  by  soft,  opal  clouds;  the 
blue  of  the  sky  was  touched  by  gray. 

The  trekschuit  bumped  up  to  the  bank,  the 
horse  was  hitched  to  a  post,  but  it  was  obvi- 


140  KITWYK    STORIES 

ous  at  once  that  a  huntinif-partv  in  stocking- 

o    I  *  o 

feet  was  too  hold  an  innovation. 

The  fourteen  martial  hoots  that  clambered 
heavily  over  the  side  of  the  boat  probably 
never  contained  more  concentrated  suffering. 

"  15e  sure  and  he  l>ack  at  six,  Jaspar,  with 
out  fail."  They  were  all  homesick.  They 
stood  on  the  hank  and  watched  the  trekschuit 
bump  otf,  then  they  were  alone  in  a  wilder 
ness, —  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach  they  saw 
only  a  long,  dull,  green  expanse  ot  cabbages. 

Mynheer  I  )efregge  led  his  suffering  quests 
through   a   hobbly   loot-path,    and   their  spurs 
got    entangled    in    the   grass.       lie   turned    on 
them     in     triumph:     "This    is     our     hunting 
ground  —  the    game    is    about    us! 

It  was  a  terrible  shock!  (  lame  —  wild 
beasts'  I  leaven  only  knew  with  what  they 
were  surrounded.  1  hey  had  read  ot  timers 
and  hyenas. 

Mynheer  I)efregge  alone  was  unmoved. 
"  1  hiffels,"  he  cried  sternly,  "what  is  this  .J  " 
lie  pointed  to  the  nearest  hunch  of  cabbages, 
under  whose  shadow,  placidly  nibbling  a  leaf, 
sat  a  hi:.;  white  rabbit.  "  \\  hy  is  he  so  tame  .J  " 

Duttels  scratched  his  ear.  "Because  he  is 
so  happy,  Mynheer." 


THE    WILD    HUXTSMKX    OF    KITWVK         141 

"  He  has  no  business  to  be  happy,"  cried 
his  Worship.  "  How  can  we  hunt  him  when 
he  won't  run  ?  " 

The  huntsmen  breathed  more  freely. 

"Your  Worship,  the  fields  are  full  of  them, 
and  they  are  desperately  wild,"  said  Duffels. 

Mynheer    de    Groot    took    Duffels    aside: 
"You    are    sure    that    they   are    all    rabbits? 
Something-  of  a   more   dangerous — might— 
might  have  — 

"  It   was    only    rabbits   that    Mynheer   De- 

«-  j 

freq-o-e    Set    out    in    the    spring, "    Duffels   an- 

o  o  o 

swered.      "There   were   four  of  them;    these 
are  —  ahem  —  their  children." 

Far  in  the  distance  rose  a  modest  clump 
of  trees.  With  sinking  hearts  they  found  that 
this  was  their  destination. 

No  one,  unless  he  has  tried,  knows  the 
agony  of  walking  in  jack-boots  and  spurs 
across  a  stubbly  field,  dragging  a  blunder 
buss. 

Mynheer  de   Groot   puffed   along   carrying 
his  helmet.      Mynheer  Piepenbrink  paused  to 
feel  of  his  pulse.      But  the  worm  will   turn,— 
with   one   accord   the)'   stopped. 

"We  won't  go  any  farther!  Do  you  call 
this  hunting?"  for  a  great,  fat  rabbit  skipped 


KITWYK    STORIHS 


between  the  K'Li's  ot  [onkheer  \'an  Loo  ;UK! 
tripped  him  up. 

"Duffels,  the  very  same  rabbit!  What 
does  le  mean  by  bein^'  so  taillilkir  ?  " 

"lie  s  one  of  the  old  ones,  and  her  feels 
very  much  at  home  here;  the  others  are  very 
wild.  I  assure;  you." 

\\  ith  sinking  hearts  they  jo.L^'ed  alon^",  and 
just  as  they  were;  about  perished  they  reached 
the  little  OTOVC.  Mere  another  appalling 
siedit  burst  on  ihem.  (  )n  a  low  platlorm.  as 
on  an  altar,  something  lay  hidelen,  covered  by 
a  lone;  white  sheet.  Hopeless  and  forsaken 
they  stood  in  a  LH'eat  waste;  of  cabbages.  I  he 
rabbits  sat  on  the  outskirts  and  pricked  up 
their  lone;  ears.  Then  it  was  that  Mynheer 
1'iepeiibrink  turned  to  flee,  and  M\  iiheer  de 
(  in>< it  grasped  his  helmet. 

"\\hat?"  and  Mynheer  van  der  \  dele 
shuddered. 

Mynheer  He-Freeze  smiled  benignly.  They 
paused. 

"Calm  y nu rseh'cs,  there;  is  no  danger.    See! " 

It  was  only  an  innocent  sucking-pie;  rest 
in  (in  a  rude  oven,  a  smile  <>n  lis  tat  face. 


T1IIC    WILD    HUNTSMEN    OF    KITWYK         143 

proval.  There  were  benches,  too,  under  the 
trees,  and  many  precious  things  appeared  out 
of  Duffels's  basket.  It  was,  however,  discov 
ered  that  Dr.  Pynappel  of  Ketwyk  had 
thoughtlessly  i/one  hunting  with  no  other 

O  J  O  O 

weapon  than  an  umbrella.  lie  basely  used 
it  as  an  excuse  to  decline  the  sport;  in  fact, 
he  put  an  end  to  all  discussion  by  taking  off 
his  boots.  For  a  moment  it  seemed  as  if  the 
bad  example  would  prove  contagious. 

The  Burgomaster  was  in  despair.  "You 
shall  c/o  hunting"  —  1  '11  be  hanired  it  I 

O  O  O 

sacrifice  a  meadow  for  nothing !  Are  you 
read}'  ?'' 

It  then  appeared  that  Mynheer  van  Steen 
and  Mynheer  de  Groot  had  left  their  ammu 
nition  in  the  trekschuit,  which  was  halfway  to 
Kitwyk  by  this  time.  But  go  they  had  to,  all 
the  same. 

Dr.  Pynappel  was  lett  in  charge  of  the  pig. 
As  a  scientific  man  IK;  examined  the  contents 
of  the  baskets  and  turned  the  spit  to  see  how 
it  worked. 

lie:  even  extended  his  sympathy  to  the 
rabbits  who  nibbled  their  way  into  view,  un 
aware  of  the  immolation  prepared  lor  their 
kindred.  Then,  like  a  warrior,  with  his  boots 


144  KITWYK    STOKIKS 

tor  a  j)illo\v,  he  stretched  himself  on  a  bench 
and  tell  asleep.  Immolation,  indeed  ! 

Do  you  know  what  it  is  to  go  hunting  and 
have  the  game  whisk  between  your  legs? 

Lions  and  timers,  indeed  ! 

I)id  any  man  ever  endanger  his  existence 
by  tripping  over  a  tiger  and  being  nearly 
impaled  on  his  own  sword,  as  happened  to 
Mynheer  Piepenbrink  .J 

I  Ie  would  not  be-  lett  to  recover,  but  pro 
ceeded  slowly,  leaning  on  tin:  arm  ot  Mynheer 
de  (iroot,  holding  a  red  bandana  handker 
chief  to  his  nose. 

As  tor  Mynheer  Oefregge,  he  was  rapidly 
losing  patience.  "  (  iood  Lord  !  why  don't  you 
shoot  .J  "  he  cried. 

"  1  he  —  the  —  beasts  are  so  near  we  can't 
take  aim  I  " 

"Then  I  '11  shoot.  Mynheer  Uefregge  was 
purple  with  wrath.  "  (  iet  out  ot  the  \\'ay,  can't 

YOU   J.    " 

It  was  a  terrible  moment.  Where  should 
they  flee  to  escape  destruction  ?  At  what 
would  the  heroic  man  aim  .J 

Xot  to  witness  the  slaughter,  they  closed 
their  eyes.  Mynheer  de  droot  and  Mynheer 
Piepenbrink  put  their  lingers  in  their  ears. 


THE   WILD    HUNTSMEN    OF    KITWYK         145 

Bang  !  Bang  !  —  Then  two  distinct  roars 
of  anguish.  It  was  not  the  stricken  prey,  it 
was  their  friend  Jonkheer  van  Loo  crushed 
under  the  outstretched  form  of  the  Burgo 
master. 

Jonkheer  van  Loo  \nth  splendid  confidence 
had  stationed  himself  directly  behind  his  friend. 
But  Mynheer's  musket  kicked  backwards  with 
such  fatal  accuracy  that  he  fell  against  Jonk 
heer  van  Loo,  who  sank  with  his  whole  weight 

o> 

on  a  very  noble  winter  cabbage. 

"  They  are  destroyed,"  cried  Mynheer  van 
Steen,  and  the  possibility  of  being  the  next 
bunromaster  flashed  through  his  mind  as  he 

o  o 

helped  raise  the  stricken  men. 

What  should  they  do  ?  Three  of  them  al 
ready  disabled.  They  stood  midway  in  a  for 
lorn  plain;  the  canal  lay  in  the  dim  distance;  a 
lowering  sky,  a  rising  breeze, — and  impassable 
ditches  cut  them  off  from  the  habitations  of 
men.  They  gazed  at  the  distant  trees  where 
their  friend,  the  doctor,  was  waiting  for  them. 
Wistful  smiles  broke  over  their  worn  faces  as 
they  also  remembered  the  pig. 

"Let  us  go  back,"  said  Jonkheer  van  Loo. 

"I — I —  must  shoot  something!  "  the  Bur 
gomaster  remonstrated. 


KITWYK    STOK 


I)  ut  they  would  n't  let  him.  I  le  had  proved 
hi-;  valor.  "Duffels,  1  must  at  least  know 
how  many  I  haver  destroyed,"  but  I  hilfels  dis- 
covered  no  victims. 

So  thev  lilted  their  valiant  feet  and  trudged 
hack  through  the  cabbages,  and  it  must  be 
acknowledged  that  the  destruction  tliey  in- 
flicted  on  that  excellent  vegetable  was  simply 
immense. 

"\\hat  has  happened?'  the  doctor  cried 
aghast.  As  a  scientific  man  he  wasted  no 
words,  he  simply  brewed  a  ]orum  of  L^TO^  and 
whisked  the  covering  from  the  little  pi^.  It 
was  sufficient,  they  smiled  once  more. 

"  Liedit  the  lire,  Duftels,  and  let  him  roast,'' 
said  the  Burgomaster. 

\\  ho  has  not  noticed,  \\hen  dead-tired  and 
hungry,  the  tantalizing  aroma  of  roast  pork 
on  the  cold  air  ! 

The  little  pie;  seemed  to  enjoy  it  himself,— 
he    smiled,  as    it    he    knew   how    LMHK!    he  was 
in  nn^'  to  taste. 

They  all  took  ott  then"  boots  ;  their  united 
eves  were  fastened  on  the  tender  youn^"  crea 
ture.  Mynheer  Piepenbrink  was  bending 
forward,  bathed  in  that  divine  aroma,  when 
he  M-ave  a  cry  of  dismay  —  a  drop  of  rain  had 
fallen  on  his  nose. 


Till-:    WILD    IIUNTSMKX    OF    KITNYYK          147 

It  could  not  be!  Divine  Providence  could 
not  be  so  cruel  in  the  lace  of  that  young  crea 
ture  browning  to  perfection,  and  they  so  fero 
ciously  hungry  ! 

There  was  no  escape  —  the  oven  stood 
exposed  to  the  blasts  of  heaven.  The  clouds 
lay  in  heavy  dull-gray  masses,  the  sea  of 
cabbages  stretched  out  like  lead.  There 
were  ghostly  squeaks  and  scamperings,  —  a 
hissing  sound  —  the  rain  spluttered  on  the 
little  pig.  The  Burgomaster  tore  his  hair. 
Despair  seized  them,  just  as  the  doctor,  like 
one  inspired,  raised  his  umbrella  —  the  pig 
was  saved. 

Each  heroic  soul  held  the  umbrella  until 
exhausted. 

It  was  Mynheer  Piepenbrink's  turn.  His 
face  was  a  fiery  red,  his  arms  ached,  and  the 
rear  portion  of  him  was  dripping. 

"lie  must  be  done!  I  fe  looks  so  —  black!" 
They  crowded  about.  The  flames,  fat  and 
showy  flames,  but  deceiving,  illuminated  their 
anxious  faces. 

"Quick,  Duffels,  knives  and  forks  and  the 
plates."  Duffels  groaned.  They  were  for 
gotten.  Oh,  Juffrouw  Defregge,  where  were 
vour  thoughts  that  morning? 


i48 


KITWYK    STORIES 


l)iit  necessity  creates  the  man, —  Mynheer 
I'lepenbnnk  s  sword  leaped  once  more  out  oi 
its  scabbard. 

"  It  may  not  lie  sharp  enough,"  he  faltered. 

It  was  rat  KT  dull,  and  the  difficulties  are 
ol>vious  of  carving  a  pi^'  over  flames  that  frolic 
in  the  face  oi  the  carver. 

|)octor  Pynappel  held  the  umbrella  while 
the  spit  \vas  lifted  to  the  ground. 

Mis  I  lonor  on  his  knees — well,  it  was  n't 
carving.  In  the  a^ony  of  expectation  no  one 
heeded  the  rain  that  gently  drenched  the  tire. 

\\ith  admirable  fortitude  the  Burgomaster 
1  lid  the  iirst  proof  of  his  skill  on  a  cabbage- 
leaf. 

I  hey  tasted  solemnly  and  licked  then"  tin- 
L^'ers  ;  the  crackling  was  burnt,  but  not  bad, 
and  yet  —  and  yet  — 

l>ut  it  was  decreed,  — the  unsteady  flames 
had  burnt  his  fair  youn^  outside  to  a  crisp, 
and  die  heart  of  him  —  well,  it  was  n't  done 
1  >y  any  means. 

"I'm  him  back,"  groaned  hi-  I  lonor.  Put 
him  back,  indeed,  with  the  last  flicker  of  flame 
feebly  licking  the  wet  peat  in  the  oven. 

They  were  so  discouraged  that  they  forgot 
the  umbrella,  and  the  ram  drizzled  j^ently  o\'er 
him. 


THE    WILD    HUNTSAIKN    OF    KITWVK         149 

"Let  us  go  home!"  It  was  Jonkheer  van 
Loo  who  broke  the  fatal  silence.  "  Go  to  the 
canal  and  see  if  the  boat  has  come,  Duffels." 

They  cowered  under  the  trees  and  tried  to 
put  on  their  boots.  No  Duffels,  but  more 
rain,  and  a  mist  lay  over  the  cabbages. 

They  crept  to  the  oven,  and  rivulets  trickled 
into  Mynheer  1  )efregge's  ears  and  down  his 
back  from  Dr.  Pynappel's  umbrella.  But 
serve  him  right !  A  man  should  n't  go  against 
tradition,  and  who  ever  heard  of  hunting-  in 
Kitwyk  ! 

"  It  may  cost  him  his  position,"  Mynheer 
van  Steen  whispered  to  Mynheer  de  Groot, 
as  they  reclined  in  a  kind  of  steam  bath  on 
the  edge  of  the  warm  bricks. 

It  grew  darker.  Xo  Duffels,  but  a  new 
horror — the  wild  beasts  of  Kitwyk  were  up 
on  them.  Myriads  of  four-footed  creatures 
squeaked  and  scampered  and  surged  towards 
the  warm  oven.  The  ground  was  covered 
with  iat,  white  rabbits. 

Clambering  up  their  legs,  nibbling  their 
coat-tails — tickling  their  feet- 

"  Blexem  !  "     groaned    Mynheer    Defregge 
and  plunged  forward  and  clutched  his  boots,— 
there  was  a  rabbit  in  each  one. 


15"  KITXVYK    STORIES 

Panic  sei/ed  them.  Mynheer  de  droot 
grasped  his  helmet  to  ilee,  and  a  tat  rabbit 
dropped  on  his  head.  They  snuggled  into 
I  )r.  Pynappel's  umbrella,  closed  in  defence, 
and  into  the  coat-tails  ot  (onkheer  \-an  Loo. 

Heroism  may  1>e  a  crime!  1  hey  iled.  de 
serting  boots  and  blunderbusses.  They  stam 
peded  across  the  meadow,  and  stumbled  over 
the  cabbages  —  it  is  surprising  how  short  a 
time  it  takes  for  a  really  heroic  man  to  save 
himself. 

I  he  canal  be^an  and  ended  in  mist.  Xot 
a  boat  was  to  be  seen,  not  a  sound  to  be  heard 
except  the  snores  ot  Duffels  asleep  in  the 
shelter  ot  an  empty  watering-trough. 

Could   [aspar  have  forgotten  .J 

Mynheer  van  Steen  shook  his  head.  [aspar 
was  nothing"  it  not  obedient.  Then  they  re 
membered  that  because  ot  his  ^I'eat  obedience 
(aspar  had  recently  helped  (uftrouw  van  Steen 
to  elope  with  young  Laui'ens  de  Keyser. 

1  hey  would  perish  unless  rescued.  Mad 
they  been  less  heroic  they  might  have  been 
in  bed.  They  confiscated  I  hiltels's  tub,  and  all 
sat  down.  A  friendly  bull  trog  began  a  solo; 
it  was  the  only  entertainment  they  had  tor  lour 
mortal  hours. 


THE    WILD    HUNTSMEN    OF    KITWYK         151 

But  thank  Heaven,  their  bones  were  not 
destined  to  bleach  on  the  sands,  not  only  be 
cause  there  was  no  sand  but  because  Kitwyk 

J 

came  to  the  rescue. 

That  clay  Kitwyk  had  been  a  kind  of  muni 
cipal  orphan.  Vague  were  the  surmises  as  to 
the  destination  of  the  heroic  band.  Jaspar  was 
interrogated.  The  canal  beino-  in  a  straight 

o  £>  <5 

line  his  explanation  was  not  very  much  in 
volved. 

At  three  o'clock  such  of  Kitwyk  as  were 
not  taking-  an  afternoon  nap  assembled  on  the 
canal  to  see  Jaspar  oft.  Excitement  had  risen 
to  fever  heat. 

Jaspar  sat  in  the  stern  smoking,  the  horse 
trundled  oft.  The}'  were  still  gazing  when 
the  trekschuit  came  to  a  sudden  stop, — Jaspar 
had  run  on  a  mud-bank. 

Kitwyk  looked  at  him,  and  he  looked  at 
Kitwyk  ;  Jaspar  felt  that  he  ought  to  be  res 
cued,  on  the  other  hand  Kitwyk  decided  that 
he  ought  to  appeal  for  aid. 

They  gazed  at  the  shipwrecked  mariner  for 
two  hours  until  it  began  to  drizzle  hard,  then 
they  went  in  and  said  Jaspar  was  not  a  prac 
tical  man.  As  for  Jaspar,  he;  retired  into  Myn 
heer  van  S teen's  cabin,  and  being,  as  it  were, 


i52  Kl  I  WVK    STOR1KS 

deserted  by  ( iod  ami  man,  he  brewed  himself 
a  bumper  of  ^"I'o^  and  fell  asleep  in  Mynheer's 
own  arm-chair. 

It  was  at  ei^ht  o'clock  that  dismay  sei/cd 
the  souls  of  Kitwyk.  To  lose  the  lUin^o- 
master,  a  town-council,  and  the  doctor  at  one 
fell  s\\  oo|)  ! 

In  IJurj^oniaster  Defreg'g'e's  house  the  ta 
ble  was  set  for  supper.  A  bo\\l  of  steaming 
hot  [)()tatoes  in  their  jackets  graced  the  center, 
flankedon  either  side:  byadisli  of  fresh  herrings 
tenderly  laid  side  by  side.  Pats  of  butter  there' 
were  too,  and  crusty  rolls,  and  apple  sauce, 
and  cheese,  of  course.  At  one  end  stood  tin- 
tea  urn,  but  the  alcohol  lamp  was  burning  nn- 
heeded,  for  1  utlrou w  Toni's  anxious  face-  was 
pressed  against  the  window  pane.  I  )id  not 
her  lather  know  that,  like  all  divine  things,  a 
potato  has  its  supreme  moment!  Alon^  the 
market  place  burghers  of  kitwyk  armed  with 
lanterns  were  hurrying  towards  the  canal. 
Toni's  heart  ^ave  a  sudden  thump  as  she 
reco-ni/ed  the  tall  figure  of  the  I  )ominie. 

"  What  is  the  matter?"  and  he  grasped  a 
scurrying  parishioner. 

"To  the   rescue to  the   rescue  ! 

••  (  )f  what?" 


Till-:    WILD    HUNTSMEN    OF    K1TWYK          153 

"The  Burgomaster  and  Mynheer  van 
Steen  and  the  town-council." 

At  last  the  Dominie  understood  why  he  had 
not  had  any  supper  —  disaster  had  overtaken 
his  worthy  host. 

The  canal  was  crowded,  and  the  Van  Loo 
horse  was  being'  hitched  to  the  trekschuit. 

"Who  will  volunteer  to  go  in  search  of  our 
heroic,  our  lost  friends?"  cried  the  pirate,  who 
was  naturally  the  leader  in  this  perilous  en 
terprise.  There  was  an  eloquent  silence,— 
danger  had  already  overtaken  too  man}"  of 
the  brave  citi/ens  of  Kitwyk. 

The  Dominie  hurriedly  decided  that,  as  he 
could  have  no  supper  until  Mynheer  van 
Steen  returned,  it  would  be  well  to  rescue  that 
worthy  man  at  once.  I  le  volunteered. 

As  the  boat  started  a  young-  person  thrust 
a  heavy  box  in  the  Dominie's  hands.  It  was 
Juffrouw  Defregge,  and  the  bulk}-  thing  was  a 
foot-stove  hot  with  blazing  charcoal.  Perhaps 
it  was  intended  for  her  father,  but  I  leaven  only 
knows. 

They  thumped  along  until  they  fell  afoul 
of  Jaspar's  trekschuit.  They  awoke  that 
obedient  man  and  took  him  aboard  as  pilot. 
He  was  very  melancholy  and  wept  with  dire 


154  KITWYK    STOK1HS 

forebodings  ;  he  also  demanded  gin,  but  Jonk- 
heer  van  Loo's  canal  boat  was  not  victualled 
tor  long  voyages,  so  the  sorrowful  man  tell 
asleep. 

They  journeyed  through  a  misty  night, 
noiseless  but  tor  the  creaking  ot  the  boat  and 
the  towing  rope.  IHurred  houses  and  wind 
mills  sailed  past,  and  ghostly  cows  on  ghostly 
meadows. 

The  drizzle  ceased,  the  clouds  floated  slowly 
away  —  a  crescent  moon  peeped  shyly  over  a 
church  spire.  Suddenly  a  weird,  monotonous 
sound  broke  the  silence. 

Captain  van  I  wist  and  Overste  de  Rock 
stared  at  the  Uominie,  —  Jan  \Villem  Piepen- 
brink  rubbed  his  nose  with  a  vague  sense  ot 
recognition.  1  hey  pec-red  into  the  darkness, 
the  trekschuit  bumped  up  against  the  bank. 

\Vhat  is  stronger  than  the  voice  ot  nature? 
Jan  \Villem  listened  as  one  tinder  a  spell.  I  Ie 
rose,  he  spoke.  "It — it  's  my  uncle,  I  can't 
be  mistaken  !  " 

lie  w;is  not.  It  was  the  voice  ot  nature. 
I'ncle  Piepcnbrink  was  mercifully  asleep,  and 
it  was  he  who  saved  their  lives. 

So  they  were  found,  the  seven  heroic  men,— 
cowering  on   a  tub,   fast  asleep.      Duffels  had 


THE    WILD    HUNTSMEN    OF    KITWYK         155 

modestly  retired  to  a  distance  with  a  young 
cabbage  as  pillow.  No,  their  bones  were  not 
destined  to  bleach  forgotten  on  the  sands. 

It  was  sufficient  to  look  at  them  to  see  that 
they  had  barely  escaped  with  their  lives. 
Even  Captain  van  Twist,  as  a  retired  pirate, 
had  never  seen  anything  more  pitiable  than 
their  condition.  The  adventures  that  Kitwyk 
did  not  hear  stirred  them  perhaps  more  than 
the  most  blood-curdling  narrative. 

It  is  needless  to  say  how  these  heroes  were 
received.  The  best  that  could  be  done  was 
done  ;  they  were  put  to  bed  and  comforted 
with  something-  hot,  but  the  very  next  day 
they  nearly  sneezed  their  heroic  heads  off  and 
took  an  enforced  vacation. 

The  only  note  of  sorrow  in  the  universal 
joy  emanated  from  the  youth  of  Kitwyk,  who 
wondered  why  God  had  spared  the  school 
master. 

It  was  perhaps  this  rash  entertainment 
which  cast  the  first  shadow  of  a  doubt  on 
Mynheer  Defregge.  There  was  about  him 
too  much  of  the  wildly  heroic.  Had  it  not 
been  for  their  daring  rescue,  they  might  have 
perished  lamentably  and  become  a  legend,  or, 
what  is  perhaps  worse,  a  piece  oi  poetry. 


I5f>  KITWYK    STORIES 

Xo  man  has  a  ri^ht  to  sacrifice  lathers  of 
families  and  other  L;ood  citi/ens  to  his  own 
mad  xest  tor  adventure.  \\  hen  the  worship- 
tul  town-council  so  tar  recovered  trom  their 
colds  as  to  IK:  able  to  think  at  all,  they  rec 
ognized  how  narrow  liad  been  their  escape, 
and  the  memory  of  that  entertainment  rankled 
like  a  deep  wound,  and  there-  came  a  time 
when  - 

lint  the  Burgomaster  of  Kitwyk  would  not 
be  warned. 


THE    BLIGHTING    OF   MYNHEER 

VAN    STEEN 

IT  was  Juffrouw  Rozenboom's  cast-iron  con 
viction  that  Toni  Defregge  had  done  it 
on  purpose.  Kitwyk  did  not  wish  to  be  cen 
sorious,  but  who  ever  heard  of  a  sensible 
young  person  walking  along"  the  highway  in 
black  satin  shoes?  As  for  Mynheer  van 
Steen--but  it  is  impossible  to  describe  the 
rage  of  that  worthy  man.  Since  the  day 
Mettje  van  Steen  eloped  to  Rotterdam  with 
young  Laurens  de  Keyser,  he  had  been  very 
lonely  in  his  house  on  the  Kitwyk  canal.  In 
his  loneliness  his  eyes  wandered  about,  and 
rested  on  the  round,  rosy  face  of  Juffrouw 
Defregge,  and  this  young  spinster  seemed 
worthy  to  fill  an  aching  void. 

Sundays,  after  church.  Mynheer's  stumpy 
legs  invariably  led  him  to  the  Burgomaster's, 
where,  in  a  back-room,  the  sermon  was  dis 
cussed  between  sips  of  the  best  Dutch  gin 
and  puffs  of  long  day  pipes.  The  gin  was 


K1TWYK    STORIKS 

d,  and  Mynheer  had  long  passed  that 
a^e  when  its  being  poured  out  by  'I  oni  I)e- 
fregge  could  enhance  its  merits;  but  she  was 
aware,  as  she  tilled  the  glasses,  oi  two  promi 
nent  boiled  gooseberries  that  looked  at  her 
in  heavy  approval  through  a  cloud  of  tobacco- 
smoke. 

[ullrouw  Uefregge  was  herself  possessed 
of  an  aching  void.  Two  blights,  not  uncon- 
nected  with  the  town-pump  and  a  disappoint 
ing  candidate,  had  settled  on  her.  She  grieved 
for  Mynheer  van  Stern,  and  regretted  that 
she  was  destined  to  blight  his  existence;  and 
she  looked  at  him  in  a  way  that  he  ought 
to  have  understood,  only  that  Mynheer  van 
Steen  understood  nothing  more  intangible 
than  gin,  coffee,  and  herrings.  Indeed,  with 
the  eye  of  her  imagination,  she  saw  him 
much  longer,  much  thinner,  less  given  to  gin 
and  more  to  passion.  ISut  just  as  [ulfrouw 
Toni's  imagination  was  languishing  tor  want 
of  sustenance,  and  Kitwyk  was  clamoring  for 
a  new  Dominic-,  another  candidate  was  an 
nounced,  and  this  time  it  was  Mynheer  van 
Steen's  candidate. 

kitwyk  was  at  this  time  in  such  a  state 
of  utter  demoralization  that  it  had  to  borro\\ 


BLIGHTING    OK    MYNHICKR   \'AX    STKKN       159 

its  ministers ;  and,  indeed,  the  hist  little 
stranger  in  the  family  of  the  uncomplaining 
Duffels  was  still  an  unbaptized  heathen.  In 
this  dilemma,  Mynheer  van  Steen  wrote  to 
the  theological  seminar)-  in  Sippken,  and  de 
manded  a  candidate  by  return  of  canal-boat. 

"  Let  him  not,"  he  explained,  "  be  too 
young,  or  so  featured  as  to  attract  the  eyes 
of  women,  who  are  both  weak  and  foolish. 
Suffice  it  that  he  is  a  godly  man,  and  that  he 
can  well  expound  the  \Yord." 

So  it  was  that  Dominie  Debray  came 
to  Kitwyk ;  and  when  Toni  Defregge  went 
to  church  that  eventful  Sabbath,  she  had  so 
little  confidence  in  the  kind  intentions  of 
Divine  Providence  that  she  wore  only  her 

J 

second-best    cap. 

It  was  afterwards  discovered  that  the  theo 
logical  seminary  of  Sippken  had  mislaid  Myn 
heer's  letter,  and  had  sent  the  wrong  candidate 
to  Kitwyk  instead  of  to  another  place  that 
demanded  something  young  and  progressive. 
Indeed,  he  expounded  the  Word  in  a  way 
which  made'  Juilrouw  Defregge  at  the  loot 
ol  the  pulpit  stare  at  him  with  devoted  blue 
eyes,  and  drink  in  his  eloquence  as  the  rose 
the  dew.  The  very  next  Sunday,  for  the  first 


[6o 


tune  in  the  history  of  the  church,  the  sexton 
h;ul  to  put  wooden  stools  in  the  aisles,  such 
was  the  enthusiasm  ot  the  temale  worshipers; 
and  [ulfrouw  Rozenboom,  who  appeared  in  a 
marvelous  new  cap,  had  a  spirited  altercation 
with  a  mistaken  sister  who  had  basely  cap 
tured  her  scat  in  the  ^anctnary.  Never  had 
there  been  in  kitwyk  such  a  revival  ot  active 
religious  interest.  I'emale  worshipers  even 
stiKK  on  stools  outside  ot  the  windows  and 
stared  in  durin  divine:  service.  It  was  ver 


In  vain  did  Mynheer  van  Steen,  with  a 
prophetic  sense  ot  evil,  deprecate  his  own 
candidate  and  his  own  judgment  —  it  was 
all  ascribed  to  an  excess  of  modesty.  I  lave 
him  kitwyk  would;  and  so,  one  summer's 
day,  the  Dominie  made  his  triumphal  entry 
in  Happing  Mack  L;'O\\  n,  muslin  bands,  and 
s(|iiare  cap.  and  kitwyk  was  hun^  \\ith  gar 
lands,  and  the  mildewed  pillars  ol  the  church 
were  festooned  with  paper  roses;  and  on  one 
side  ot  the  market  place  stood  the  school- 
chili  i"en.  and  bobbed  courtesies,  pulled  their 
flaxen  forelocks,  and  san^"  a  shrill  SOUL;  of 
welcome  under  the  direction  of  the  school 
master,  \\ho  played  the  fiddle.  After  which 


BLIGHTING    OF    MYNHEER  VAN    STEEN      161 

there  was  a  banquet  in  the  state  room  of 
William  the  Silent  (a  little  musty  from  dis 
use),  of  which  such  of  Kitwyk  as  felt  in 
clined  to  pa)'  two  guilders  were  at  liberty 
to  partake.  Mynheer  van  Steen  did  not 
enjoy  the  auspicious  occasion,  nor,  after  that, 
a  long  visit  from  the  new  Dominie  while 
the  parsonage  was  being  refreshed  with  a 
coat  of  yellow  paint.  But  Mynheer  knew 
how  to  take  advantage  of  his  own  enforced 
hospitality.  As  he  wandered  with  his  guest 
in  the  inspiring  regions  of  the  kitchen-gar 
den,  he  sniiied  the  aroma  of  ripening  vege 
tables,  and  felt  so  moved  that  he  confessed 
his  aching  void  and  the  future  destiny  of 
Jtiffrouw  I  )efregge. 

"  It  is  as  good  as  settled,"  he  explained,  by 
which  he  meant  to  say  that  he  had  his  own 
consent.  "  But  youth  has  confidence  in  youth  ; 
and  as  you  owe  me:  much,  young  man,  so, 
in  godly  converse  with  Juffrouw  Defregge  —  a 
minister  has  so  many  opportunities  —  speak  of 
me,"  and  he  mopped  his  head  with  a  yellow 
bandana,  "as  a  grateful  heart  would  naturally 
dictate'." 

Alas,  such  is  the  natural  perversity  of  the 
human  heart  that  young  Dominic-  Debray, 


who  h;ul  hitherto  overlooked  the  charms  ol 
(ultrouw  I 'elre^e,  was  suddenly  sei/cd  \\iih 
an  ungodly  interest  in  that  youn<^  person. 
(  )f  all  the  excellent  temales  who  Hocked  to 
hear  him  preach  it  was  the  usual  treak  ot 
tale,  that  on  y  the  lorbidden  charms  (>l  [ut 
trouu  I  )etre^e;e  should  haunt  his  thoughts  as 
he  saw  her  —  her  sunny  lace  flushed  and  her 
Mile  eyes  upturned  to  him  \\ith  a  devotion 
most  praiseworthy.  I  here  was,  t<>  he  sure,  an 
upward  tilt  to  her  nose  which,  in  his  unri-ht 
eons  sell  communities,  he  was  inclined  to  dis 
parage;  hut  when  he  considered  her  mouth, 
the  two  red  lips  touched  by  a  wistful  quiver, 
the  sparkling  eyes  subdued  to  a  proper  devo 
tion,  and  the  sunny  curls  escaping  from  the 
little  cap  —  he  was  inclined  to  be  lenient,  and 
it  was,  indeed,  with  a  ^roan  that  he  remem 
bei'ed  that  she  was  destined  lor  his  benefactor. 

1  he     parsonage     stood     111     the     shade     ot     tile 

chestnut  trees  near  the  old  church,  and  it  had 
a  queer  triangle  ot  a  garden  meandering  into 
the  market  place,  from  which  it  was  separated 
by  a  lind'-n  hed^e.  Mere,  many  and  many  a 
lime,  llv  I  )ommie  paced  up  and  down  in  un 
righteous  perplexity,  to  the  consternation  ol 
the  narsona'''e  ( at,  \\hich  retired  under  the 


BLIGHTING    OF    MYNHKEK   VAN    STKKN      163 

hedge,  her  back  well  up,  and  followed  the 
Dominie  with  disapproving  green  eyes.  lie- 
was  against  all  tradition,  and  his  legs  were 
abominably  long,  and  he  paced  the  garden  in 
the  nearest  approach  to  agitation  that  the:  par 
sonage  cat  had  ever  seen.  ftiffrouw  kozen- 
boom  could  just  overlook  him  behind  her 
muslin  curtains. 

"  I  le   is   meditating  on   his   discourse,"  and 

O 

[uffrouw  Rozenboom  was  much  impressed. 
"So  young  and  so  godly!  The  old  Dominie 
never  meditated,"  which  was  partly  true,  for 
he  had  never  meditated  on  the  subject  of  Juf- 
rouw  Defregge,  and  so  it  was  that  Dominie 
Debray  earned  a  most  undeserved  reputation 
tor  piety. 


I  i  was  at  this  time  that  Duffels's  youngest 
was  still  a  little  imbaptized  heathen.  As  the 
tenth  olive-branch  Duffels  tried  not  to  look 
upon  it  with  reproach;  as  for  Mevrouw  Duf 
fels,  she  was  convinced  that  it  was  born  to 
greatness.  Mevrouw  Duffels  had  begun  life 
in  the  establishment  of  Mynheer  Defregge; 
to  her  had  been  confided  the  care  of  the  De 
fregge  geese,  and  it  was  while  watching  her 


KITWYK    STORIES 


drive  her  snowy  flock  to  pasture,  armed  with  a 
willow  wand,  stumping  alone;  in  her  \\ooden 
shoes,  her  red  cheeks  ^'lowin^  like  two  apples, 
and  her  blue  skirts  whipped  by  the  wind,  that 

Teat execu- 


I  hitlels  was  captivated.     She  hac 

tive  ability;    never  did  the   giddiest   j^oose  or 

Bander  sti'ay  out  ot  the  reach  ot  that  lon^  \\  il 
low  wand,  \\-hich  recalled  the  most  erratic  fowl 
to  the  path  ot  virtue.  It  was  indeed  this  which 
had  helped  Mevrouw  I)uliels  to  cope  success- 
hilly  with  nine  little  I  hittelscs,  but  it  was  when 
the  tenth  arrived  that  she  was  inspired  with 
sud<  en  anil  )iti<  >n. 

So  one  day  I  hittels  knocked  apologetically 
at  the  lUir^'omaster's  front  door,  the  occasion 
beine;  serious.  [uffrouw  I  )efre^;^e  was  in  the 
kitchen,  her  arms  deep  in  Hour,  tor  she  was 
rolling  out  a  certain  ancestral  cake  \\hich 
had  been  made  by  Defrei^'es  from  the  same 
receipt  since  the  days  ot  the  Spanish  m<|insi 
tion.  I  he  brass  pots  and  pans  on  the  walls, 
the  wattle  iron  and  the  brass  mortar,  all  re 
flected  her.  but  not  one  did  her  justice,  though 
her  cap  was  on  one  side  and  a  dab  ot  (lour  or 
namented  her  cheek.  A  snowy  linen  apron 
was  tied  under  her  chin,  and  about  her  floated 
the  fragrance  of  rich  and  spicy  baking  from  the 


BLIGHTING    OF    MYNHEER   YrAN    STEEN      165 

brass-bound  stove  that  panted  and  throbbed 
and  ran  a  race  with  the  [une  rose  clambering 

J  o 

in  at  the  window,  to  see  which  could  smell  the 
sweeter.  Duffels's  mouth  watered  with  long 
ing,  and  it  was  with  a  sigh  that  he  recovered 
his  senses.  Would  Juffrouw  Defregge  honor 
them  by  being  godmother  to  the  youngest? 
Mevrouw  Duffels  had  discovered  in  him  infal 
lible  signs  (Duffels  was  privately  uncon 
vinced)  that  argued  for  future  distinction. 

Juffrouw  Defregge,  her  chin  on  the  rolling 
pin,  gravel)'  considered  the  serious  responsi 
bility  of  a  god-child. 

"  \Ye  have  our  pride,"  Duffels  urged,  "and 
it  being  a  new  Dominie,  it  will  greatly  raise-,  us 
in  his  esteem." 

So  fuffrouw  Toni  consented.  I  lowever, 
Duffels's  youngest  remained  a  heathen,  for  the 
clamor  of  contending  candidates  lelt  him  un- 
christened.  Hut  salvation  was  at  hand- 
Mynheer  van  Steen's  candidate;  arrived,  and 
one  late;  autumn  da)'  Duffels  again  knocked 
at  the  Burgomaster's  front  door. 

"The  Dominie  is  coming  out  to  us  this  af 
ternoon  for  the  christening,"  he  announced. 

A  glow  swept  over  fuffrouw  Defregge's  face, 
and  her  blighted  existence  betrayed  symptoms 


<>t  reviving.  Il  \vas  that  attrrn<><>n  tliat  she 
put  on  those  little  black  satin  shoes  which 
aroused  the  resentment  ot  Kitwyk.  In  those 
\er\  shoes  her  mother  had  captivated  the  15 ur- 
Li'omaster  in  the  days  before  he  had  nailed  her 
int< '  the  toml). 

I*  ar  beyond  the  outskirts  ot  kitwyk,  beyond 
the  \  an  Loo  woods — planted  by  a  wise  and 
dead  \  an  Loo  —  a  whitewashed  dwelling",  with 
a  shaLLy  settle  before  the  door,  stood  in  the 
embrace,  as  it  were,  ot  tour  ditches,  where  all 
manner  of  aquatic  animals  lived  in  L^reat  har 
mony,  and  where  the  bullfrogs  kept  up  a  lively 
thrum.  I  lie  lonely  road  through  the  \  an  Loo 
woods  was  covered  with  withered  chestnut 
leaves,  pine  cones  tell  with  a  soli  thud,  and 
vj'eat  raided  chestnut  burs  dropped  from 
the  branches,  through  which  tin-  sunlight  til 
tered  and  tell  in  golden  sj)lasheson  the  heaped 
up  rustling'  leaves.  I  he  I  )ommie  in  his  ^<>\\n 
and  cap,  \\ith  his  muslin  bands  under  hi-,  chin, 
\\alked  alon^'  the  lonely  path,  lost  in  thought, 
and  he  ^'<i\e  a  guilty  start  as  he  crossed  the 
ditch  before  I  hitfels's  house,  t(>r  on  the  settle 
by  the  door,  be^'iniiin^'  thus  early  to  exer 
cise  her  duties,  sat  a  yoiin^"  person  holding  in 
her  amis  the  newest  Ihiftels  bab\',  \\  ho  was 


BLIGHTING    OF    MYNHEER   VAN    STEEX       167 

sucking  his  finders  and  staring  foolishly  into 
vacancy. 

This  was  the  first  time  that  the  Dominie  had 
ever  been  quite'  alone  with  Juiiromv  I  )clre-gge:. 
who  rose:  at  sight  ot  him,  her  eyes  cast  down, 
her  rosy  cheek  against  the  baby's  flaxen  head. 
She  said  nothing.  The  Dominie  grasped  his 
prayer-book,  and  looked  past  Mistress  De- 
treggc,  and  could  think  ot  nothing  but  Myn 
heer  van  Steen.  So  ghastly  silent  were  they 
that  the:  baby,  with  a  prophetic  sense:  ot  dis 
comfort,  began  to  kick  his  fat  legs  and  howl 
most  uproariously,  till  Me:vnmw  Duffels  flew  to 
the:  rescue,  and  apologized  lor  the:  ungodly  con 
duct  ot  her  offspring,  struggling,  as  lie-  seemed 
to  be.  against  the:  holy  church.  Whereupon 
she-  bore  the-  sinner  into  the:  house1,  his  chin 
resting  upon  her  shoulder,  whence  he:  stare-el 
at  his  worship  ami  his  god-mother  with  wet, 
round  eyes. 

]>ut  the:  youuge:st  Duffels  was  not  without 
a  saving  grace-,  tor  no  soone-r  eliel  the-  Dominie 
take:  him  in  his  arms  than  he:  cuddle-el  con- 
tenteclly  against  the-  black  gown,  and  stare-el 
innocently  at  the-  muslin  bauds  till,  siulele-nly. 
he:  made:  a  bold  grab  for  the-m  ;  ami  so,  with 
the:  help  ol  a  cracked  blue  china  bowl,  he-  was 


1 68  KIT\YYK    ST<>klKS 

made  a   Christian,  ami    (uttroiiw    Defrei^'e  — 
her   eyes   bie;    with    responsibility -- promised 

to    help    him    renounce    the    world,    the    flesh, 
ami    the   devil. 

So  it  was  over,  and  the  1  )<>minie  put  up 
his  prayer-book,  ami  looked  uncertainly  at 
luttrouw  1  )etre^e;e.  '1  hen  it  was  that  Dul- 
teK's  understanding  sank  forever  in  the  esti- 
mation  of  his  wife.  "1  will  LM>  home  \\ith 
[uitroiuv  Defrei^g'e,"  he  said  —  ami  wondered 
why  she  shook  her  head  at  him,  and  hitched 
her  elbow  towards  the  unconscious  Dominie, 
and  why  he  was  most  unexpectedly  sent  to 
letch  peat.  'I  hen  Mevrouw  1  hillels.  her  biv; 
hands  (in  her  bi^'  hips,  and  her  lace  edo\\  me; 
\\ith  placid  benevolence,  watched  the  Domi- 
nie  and  |ultrouw  1  Jelree^e  cross  the  ditch,  ex 
citing  to  ,i  |e\\  quacks  the  ducks  thai  floated 
in  the  e;Teen  water,  while  the  bullfrogs  twanged 
like  a  \\hiile  orchestra  of  bass  fiddles,  ami 
fuffrouw  I  )etrei;"i^"e  flushed  and  then  L^rew 
pale  at  the  touch  of  the  Dominie's  hand. 
As  it  with  one  accord,  they  walked  very  far 
apart  on  the  level  road;  ami  between  them 
trotted  —  at  least  to  the  spiritual  vision  of 
the  Dominie --a  short,  tat  man  with  little 
choleric  eves,  uho  explained  that  it  was  as 


BLIGHTING    OF    MYNHEER  VAN    STEEN      169 

good  as  settled,  and  that  he,  Dominic-  De- 
bray,  owed  him  a  debt  of  gratitude.  At  the 
remembrance,  the  Dominie,  xvith  a  frown, 
pulled  his  gown  hastily  about  him,  and  pro 
ceeded  to  live  up  to  his  principles.  As  for 
Juffrouw  Defregge,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
road,  though  her  eyes  were  downcast,  she 
could  still  catch  a  cornerwise  glimpse  of  him  ; 
and  very  stately  he  looked, —  though  very 
grave, —  and  never  a  glance  did  he  vouch 
safe  her. 

If  she  could  have  her  say  —  and  she  shook 
her  head  in  deep  meditation  —  she  would 
have  the  long  black  gown  fuller  on  his  broad 
shoulders;  nor  would  she  be  satistied  with 
the  set  ot  the  bands  —  it  it  were  only  her 
blessed  privilege  to  make-  them  !  At  the 
bare;  thought  she  sighed  so  deeply  that  the 
silent  man  on  the  other  side  of  the  road 
looked  at  her  in  surprise. 

"As  soon  would  I  think  ol  a  rose-  sigh 
ing  !  "  he  cried  ;  and  then,  feeling  that  the 
remark  was  not  serious  enough,  he:  added 
hastily,  "What  ails  you,  [uffrouw  Defregge?" 
And  because:  they  were  just  entering  the 
shade  of  the  Van  Loo  woods  In:  was  spared 
the  sight  of  Mistress  Defregge's  blushes. 


I  he  sunset  was  tillering  with  golden  Ldory 
throu^'h  the  trees,  and  the  road,  which  had 
L^rown  narrower,  was  piled  hi^h  with  tallen 
chestnut  -lea\  es.  Sometimes  a  lonely  bird 
darted  through  the  branches,  and  tar  in  the 
distance  they  could  hear  the  sleepy  tinkle  ot 
a  cow-hell.  1  ruly,  it  seemed  as  it  they  were 
all  alone  in  the  world!  Suddenly  the  I  )omi- 
nie  .stopped,  bared  his  head,  and  took  a  lon^ 
breath,  as  it  he  had  a  ^"reat  weight  on  his 
heart;  and  (ultrouw  loin  turned  upon  him 
her  eyes  sparkling  with  mischief. 

"What  ails  you,  Mynheer  Debray?"  and 
her  heart  beat  very  fast. 

"Nothing  —  nothing,"  and  the  Dominie's 
cheek  (lushed.  "I  —  1  was  thinking  ot  Myn 
heer  van  Steen  —  a  very  worth)  man,  and  a 
\alued  friend  he  has  proved  to  me."  His 
gratitude  was  of  a  most  gloomy  nature. 

[uffrouw  Deirej^'e  stared  at  him,  and  then 
she  laughed  melodn  uisly. 

"  lint  why  should  the  thought  ot  Mynheer 
van  Steen  make  you  si^h  ? 

"It      does      not It      does     not!          lie     replied 

in    ''feat    haste.       "  A    man    has    manv  reasons 


BLIGHTING    OF    MYNHEER  VAN    STEEX      171 

heer  van   Steen   has  been  younger,  he   is  still 
in   a  great  state  ot   vigor." 

"  I  le  is  very  fortunate',"  murmured  Juffromv 
Defregge;  "but  I  do  not  — 

"  He  is  also  a  man  of  means,"  the  Dominie 
interrupted  sternly. 

"So  I  am  told;  but  what  of  that?"  she 
cried,  in  sad  perplexity.  But  the  Dominie 
was  not  to  be  interrupted. 

"  Youth  "  -and  he  strode  angrily  along,  so 
that  Toni  had  to  skip  briskly  to  keep  pace  — 
"  youth  is  an  unstable  thing  by  itself.  It  re 
quires  the  support  of  steadfast  age.  What 
cannot  a  man  like  Mynheer  van  Steen  give  a 
young  wife?  —  not  to  mention  his  undying 
gratitude.  Think  of  his  undying  gratitude  !  " 
he:  repeated,  but  he  stared  straight  in  front 
of  him. 

"  But  I  don't  want  to  think  of  his  undying 
gratitude,"  and  Toni  pouted. 

"No;  between  you  there  can  be  no  such 
question."  And  the  Dominie  relapsed  into 
silent  gloom. 

"None  —  none,"  Juffrouw  Defregge  nearly 
sobbed  in  disappointment;  for  they  were 
nearing  the  end  of  the  road.  And  with  this 
she  stamped  her  foot,  and  gave  a  sudden  cry, 


172  KITWYK    STORIES 

and  would  have  (alien  bad  not  youn^  Domi 
nic  Debray  sprung  forward  and  caught  her 

in  his  arms;  and  tor  a  moment  her  white  face 
lay  against  his  Mack  LM>wn,  and  her  blue  eyes 
were  closed. 

"  (  )h,  Mynheer  van  Steen!  the  I  )ominie 
groaned,  and  then  'I  oni  opened  her  blue  eyes, 
and  Tier  face  quivered  with  pain. 

"My  foot,  oh,  my  toot!"  she:  moaned,  while 
the  Dominie  looked  up  and  down  the  lonely 
road  for  help;  hut  nothing  was  to  he  seen  hut 
the  sunliidit  stealing"  through  the  trees,  and  a 
frightened  hare  scooting  past. 

"Oh,  Mynheer  van  Steen,"  his  soul  cried 
within  him,  and  he  felt  that  the  burden  was 
more  than  he  could  bear. 

"  Please  set  me  down,  please!  |ultrou\v 
I  )rfrey^e  sobbed,  whether  from  pain  or  what, 
I  leaven  only  knows.  I  ler  little  mantle  was  all 
awry,  and  her  hat  was  on  one  side  as  he  placed 
her  tenderly  against  the  loot  ol  a  gnarled  old 
chestnut-tree,  and  then-  he  stood  and  looked 
helplessly  down  at  her  and  at  the  poor  foot 
outstretched  in  a  little  shoe  of  black  satin. 

"  I  think,"  and  t\\o  tears  dropped  down    bit 
trou w  1  h-tre^e's  roum    cheeks,  "it  is  a  thorn." 

Vainlv    the.    Dominie    looked    up   and   down 


BLIGHTING    OF    MVMIKER  VAN    STKKN       173 

the  road  for  succor.  Then  he  spoke  with  an 
effort,  "Will  you  let  me  see?" 

Never  was  there  a  sterner  face  as  he  took 
the  little  black  satin  foot  in  his  hand.  The 
little  black  satin  shoes  of  Mevrouw  Defregge! 
C  )h,  the  vanity  of  woman  !  Age  had  made  them 
very  frail,  and  an  ancient  hardened  chestnut- 
bur  had  pierced  the  thin  fabric.  Sternly  the 
Dominie  took  off  the  shoe,  but  his  hands 
trembled.  lie  bowed  his  head  —  the  world 
was  spinning  about  —  so  little  a  loot!  —  what 
had  become  ot  his  honor  ?-- Mynheer  van 
Stcen  ! 

The  chestnut  thorns  still  clung  to  the  red 
stocking, —  he  brushed  them  off  gently, —  he 
did  not  kno\v  what  he  did. 

"It  is  better,"  Juffrouw  Defregge  faltered. 
With  a  deep  sigh  he  looked  up: 

"  Toni  —  Toni,"  he  cried,  and  Mynheer  van 
Steen  was  forgotten,  "1  —  I  love  you,"  and 
he  rose-,  hid  his  face  in  his  hands  and  bowed 
his  head. 

"Mynheer  Debray,"  Toni  whispered,  and 
like  a  Hash  she  saw  that  she  ~\vas  destined  to 
make  the:  muslin  bands. 

He  did  not  move;  his  attitude  was  one  of 
profound  dejection. 


KI  I  \VYK    STORIKS 


I  lien  a  miracle  \\'as  wrought.  juffrouw 
DeireL^e  rose  to  her  teet.  "  Basil,"  she 
whispered,  and  citing  to  the  old  cliestnut-tree 
for  support,  "why  should  you  not  love  me, 


1  le  turned  on  her.  "  I  o  ask  me  that  !  Is 
there  not  Mynheer  vim  Steen  ?  " 

"Dnt  \\hat  concern  is  it  of  Mynheer  van 
Steen.''"  she  rried  ;  and  a  sudden  smile  broke 
over  her  face,  and  she  looked  away  from  Ins 
ea^er  eyes,  and  her  bodice  rose  and  fell  with 
the  quick  beating  of  her  heart. 

"  loin!"  was  all  he  said,  and  he  looked 
neither  up  nor  down  the  road,  but  he  held  her 
in  his  arms. 

"  Basil,  Basil,  [utiromv  I  )etre^'^e  mur 
mured,  "youth  is  an  unstable  tiling,  but  it 
does  not  need  the  support  of  steadfast  a^e  ! 
and  because  she  was  weak,  and  needed  su pport, 
Basil  put  his  arm  about  her,  and  so  they  walked 
verv  slowly  down  the  sun  splashed  road  to 
gether,  and  the  hare,  that  had  scooted  across 
the  road  before,  lingered  on  the  outskirts,  and 
rubbed  his  whiskers  in  undisturbed  serenity. 

As  for  Kitwyk,  it  declared  that  no  sensible 
maid  had  ever  before  walked  through  the  \  an 


BLIGHTING    OF    MYNHEER  VAX    STEEN      175 

Loo  woods  in  black  satin  shoes.  There  were 
others,  however,  who  were  inclined  to  think 
that  Juffrouw  Defregge  had  been  very  sensi 
ble,  (uffrouw  Rozenboom  even  went  so  far 
as  to  declare  that  she  had  done  it  on  purpose. 
As  lor  the  rage  of  Mynheer  van  Steen  —  but 
that  cannot  possibly  be  described. 


T1IK    BURGOMASTER'S    SOFA 

i 

IT  \vus  Mynheer  I  )efre<j^e's  mistake  that 
lie  \\ished  I\it\\\k  to  join  in  the  march 
ot  Progress,  which  Kitwyk  declined,  bein- 
satisfied  with  the  customs  of  its  ancestors. 
Indeed,  the  worthy  man  pursued  Progress  so 
constantly  that  his  ^old  headed  cane  was  for 
ever  coming  down  on  youthlul  burghers  with 
a  /est  out  of  which  a  lnt  of  pendant  shirt  tail 
could  not  be  expected  to  take  the  stiiiv;  ;  and, 
indeed,  there  was  only  one  tiling  of  which 
that  redoubtable  man  thought  more,  and  that 
was  Toiii,  his  daughter. 

loin  I  Vfre^'e  had  been  the  subject  of 
many  a  foreboding  prophecy  by  reason  of 
her  worldly  skirts  ;md  an  ignorance  of  serious 
cooking:  so,  when  Kitwyk  heard  that  |ut- 
froiiw  I  >efre-.--e  \vas  to  marry  the  new  min 
ister.  it  was  simply  aghast. 

Perhaps  Mistress   I  oni  was  a  worldly  youn^ 
maid,    but    she    loved    her    1  )ominie.    and    she 

,76 


THE    BURGOMASTER'S    SOFA  177 

wondered  why  this  great  and  good  man  had 
chosen  one  so  unworthy  as  herself.  She 
quite  forgot  that  she  had  helped  him  as  far 
as  beseems  a  maid. 

For  three  hundred  years  the  town -council 
of  Kitwyk  had  met  in  the  same  whitewashed 
room,  around  a  green  baize  table  hallowed  by 
the  scorchings  of  generations  of  clay  pipes, 
and  eight  ancient  oak  chairs  were  worn 
smooth  by  three  centuries  of  legislators.  A 
long  line  of  burgomasters  in  tarnished  gilt 
frames  looked  down  on  their  descendants 
from  the  walls,  while  through  the  diamond- 
shaped  panes  could  be  seen  the  market 
place  and  the  town -pump. 

Now  lor  three  hundred  years  no  one  had 
questioned  the  beauty  and  propriety  of  this 
apartment.  It  was,  therefore,  like  a  thunder 
bolt  out  of  a  clear  sky  when  the  Burgomaster 
demanded  a  renovation  of  the  council-cham 
ber,  a  coating  of  whitewash,  a  new  baize  for 
the  table,  and  soap  and  water  for  the  faces  of 
the  ancestral  burgomasters.  The  town -coun 
cil  was  dumb  with  horror;  and  it  simply  col 
lapsed  when  Mynheer  Defreg'ge  added,  lean 
ing  on  the  table  in  the  attitude;  in  which  he 
expected  SOUK;  day  to  be  painted,  that  he  de- 


sired  the  appropriation  of  a  sufficient  sum  for 
the  purchase  of  a  sofa  for  the  exclusive  use  of 
the  Burgomaster. 

A  sola  tor  the  Burgomaster!  In  I  leaven's 
name,  what  were  they  coming  to  .J  [onkheer 
van  Loo  was  the  first  to  recover  himself. 
"  Blexem  !  does  the  Burgomaster  propose  to 
M<  •(  •])  in  the  ci  ninci  chaml  >er  .J  " 

Now  this  was  a  delicate  point,  and  the 
ci uincil  c< >u L^hed  clubii >usl \'. 

"   I  he  Burgomaster  should  have  a  sofa   be 
cause  of    his   exalted    station!  '    Mynheer    I)e- 

tl'e^^'e     1'etoi'ted. 

"Never!  "    was   all   that    [onkheer  van    Loo 

could    utter. 

"  \\'ho  is  the   Burgomaster  of   Kitwyk?" 

"\ou  are  a  dangerous  dema^'o^'iie  !  and 
(onkheer  \an  Loo  clapped  his  three  cornered 
hat  on  his  head,  and  leaped  to  his  teet. 

Mow  to  describe  the  consternation  of 
Kitwyk  ! 

A  brand  new  sofa  for  the  sole  use  <>t  the 
Burgomaster!  It  was  the  wild  dream  of  a 


tit"  furniture  of  almost  i'e;_uil  luxury  to  be  ob 
tained  onl\  tnun  Kotten  am  by  trekscliuit ! 
It  this  \\-as  ]>roL;Tess,  let  kitwyk  beware. 


THK    BURGOMASTER'S    SOFA  179 

But  the  town-council  proposed  a  compromise  ; 
and,  with  a  sense  of  disloyalty  to  their  worthy 
predecessors,  they  agreed  to  the-  whitewash, 
baize,  and  soap  —  but  the  sola  they  resolutely 
declined. 

Xever  mind  your  French  revolutions  ;  for 
a  real  upheaval  ot  society  you  are  referred  to 
the  chronicles  ot  Kitwyk. 

It  was  the  Burgomaster's  opinion  that,  it 
Kitwyk  could  only  once;  be  brought  tace  to 
lace,  with  this  sota,  it  might  gradually  be: 
reconciled.  11  is  heart  was  set  on  it;  it  was 
the  outward  and  visible  sign  of  his  dignity, 
and  it  was  to  impress  the  I  )efregge  relatives 
at  Toni's  wedding.  In  those  days  he  wrote 
man)-  letters  heavy  with  seals  to  Rotterdam  - 
the  times  were  serious  for  Kitwyk,  and  the 
post-boy  complained. 

n 

I  "I1  was  a  spring  day.  The  furze  along  the 
roadside  was  a  golden  yellow,  while  the:  banks 
about  the  Kitwyk  mill  were  red  with  blossom 
ing  clover. 

The  Burgomaster  sat  alone  in  his  council- 
chamber,  and  the  portraits  of  the  ancestral 


I  So  K1TVVYK    STORIKS 

burgomasters  looked  down  on  him  from  their 
newly  whitewashed  walls  with  uneasy  surprise. 

A  knock  at  the  door  was  followed  by  I  hiltels. 

"  Duffels,"  Mynheer  said  solemnly.  "  I  have 
sent  tor  you  because  of  my  L^'reat  confidence." 

l)uffels  partly  bowed  and  partly  courtesied. 

"To-niedit    I     expect    something    by    trek 
schuit.       It  will  be  addressed  to  me.      Ask    no 
questions;    but  convey  it  to  the  council  cham 
ber,  lock  it  up,  and  brm^'  me  the  key 

1  hitfels  scratched  his  head.  "  Please,  your 
Honor,  mi^ht  I  ask  what  it  is?" 

"  No  !  "  thundered  the  threat  man.  "  It  is 
a  surprise. 

I  hat  ni!_du  at  supper  the  obedient  Duffels 
was  announced;  he  was  enveloped  in  a  haze 
of  perplexity. 

"Is  it  safe?"  the  Burgomaster  asked,  in 
evident  agitation. 

"  \  - ves,   y< >ur  I  b >n< >r. 

"And  placed  in  the  council  chamber  3  " 

"V  yes." 

"  \\'as  it  heavv  ?  " 


his  patron. 

"  \\  as  it  well  covered  ?  " 
"  \  es  —  ( ih.  ves.' 


THE    BURGOMASTER'S    SOFA  181 

The  Burgomaster  was  too  greatly  elated  to 
observe  Duffels's  perplexity.  He  carried  a 
dark-lantern,  and  led  the  way  to  the  town- 
hall. 

''The  trouble  with  this  age  is  its  dead 
level,"  he  said  bitterly,  parti)'  because  of  the 
truth,  and  partly  because  he  had  hit  his  shins 
as  he  climbed  up  the  narrow  stairs.  But  it 
was  with  solemn  triumph  that  he  flung  open 
the  council-chamber  and  illumined  the  scene 
with  his  lantern. 

"  You  may  call  this  a  sofa,"  and  he;  glared 
at  the  unoffending  Duffels,  "but  to  me  it  is 
an  altar — "  here:  he  paused  and  peered  about. 
Then  he  began  again.  "On  this  sofa,  as  on 
an  altar,  I — thunder  and  lightning,  where  is 
the.  sofa  ?  " 

"What  sofa?"  Duffels  repeated,  vacantly. 

"The  sofa  that  came  by  trekschuit  to 
night,  you  imbecile  !  " 

"  Nothing  came  but  this,"  and,  hiding  un 
der  the  sacred  chair  of  the  Burgomaster, 
I  )utlels  disclosed  a  small  mongrel  cur  who 
cowered  before  the  awful  ga/e  of  the  chief 
magistrate  of  Kitwyk.  I  le  wore  a  little  blan 
ket,  and  by  his  side  stood  a  rush  basket. 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?  " 


i,S2  KITNVYK    STORII-:S 

"  1  It-  is  addressed  to  your  I  lonor,"  I  hitlcls 
ventured  feebly.  "  I  --  1  --  though t  there 
must  be  some  mistake, —  but  you  would  n't 
let  me  explain." 

I  low  to  describe  the  ra^e  ot  that  i^Teat 
man!  "Get  out  ot  here1  '  he  cried,  in  just 
resentment,  to  the  little  dov;,  who,  overcome 
by  the  majesty  ot  the  rei^nin^"  head  ot  l\it- 
wyk,  \\ith  its  bit  ot  a  tail  between  its  le^'s 
and  its  blanket  all  awry,  hopped  down  stairs 
and  disappeared  in  the  »  arkness. 

Lvery  ni^ht  at  ten  o'clock  there  shuttled 
out  ot  the  porch  ot  \\  illiam  the  Silent,  carry 
ing  a  dim  lantern,  a  shabby  old  man,  who 
picked  his  way  absently  over  the  cobble 
stones.  1  his  nivdit  it  was  so  dark  that  the 
pump  loomed  up  like  a  vdiost,  and  he  mi^ht 
have  run  against  it  but  lor  a  dismal  wail  at 
its  loot,  and  lowering  his  lantern,  he  found  it 
was  emitted  by  a  very  small  do^'  in  a  volu 
minous  cloak  which  was  entangled  in  an  iron 
<  irnament. 

"I'oor  beast,"  said  the  schoolmaster,  and 
released  him.  The  little  do--  crept  close  to 
his  rescuer  and  i^a/ed  at  him  with  such 
melancholy  eyes  that  the  old  man  was 
touched.  lie  walked  on  a  lew  steps  and 


THE   BURGOMASTER'S    SOFA  183 

then  he  looked  back ;  the  dog  still  sat  there 
watching  him. 

"  So  you,  too,  are  friendless,"  said  the; 
schoolmaster,  and  patted  him  on  his  blunt 
head,  and  the  result  was  that  he  took  the 
little  dog"  home. 

No  one  ever  claimed  him,  and  no  one  ever 
noticed  him  but  the  schoolmaster's  sister,  Juf- 
frouw  Rozenboom,  who  lived  in  the  two 
rooms  on  one  side  of  the  entry  while  her  broth 
er  lived  in  the  other  two,  and  they  were  not 
merely  divided  by  a  chilly  stone-paved  entry, 
which  that  excellent  lady  rejoiced  to  drench 
with  soap  and  water  at  unexpected  seasons, 
but  because  of  her  righteous  contempt  for 
his  patience  and  lack  of  enterprise. 

When  the  old  sexton,  Rozenboom,  died,  he 
willed  to  his  daughter,  along  with  his  violon 
cello,  an  ancient  sola,  the  one  article  of  luxury 
in  the  family.  This  piece  of  furniture  Juf- 
frouw  Rozenboom  immediately  bore  to  her 
best  room,  a  sacred  apartment  where  tew 
penetrated,  and  nothing  was  left  to  the 
schoolmaster  but  three,  hard  and  shiny  horse 
hair  stools.  Reminiscences  ol  this  sofa  floated 
before  him  in  day-dreams,  when  he;  saw  it 
back  in  its  forsaken  corner  and  he  himself 


reclining  in  its  hollow,  mellowed  to  tin-  lui- 
in;m  torni  by  generations  ol  Rozenbooms, 
smoking"  his  lon^  porcelain  pipe.  I  lad  he 
not  once-  dreamed  in  its  corner?  She  was 
dead,  the  LMrl  he  had  loved,  and  lie  was  a 
lonely  old  man,  —  he  did  not  pine,  tor  the 
long~-lost  happiness,  but  only  lor  the  sola. 

in 

IT  was  of  course  when  he  did  not  expect 
it  that  the  Burgomaster's  sola  came.  Its 
muttled  torm  was  borne  to  the  town-hall 
in  silence.  It  was  a  lon^',  L^aunt,  horsehair 
structure  studded  with  brass  nails.  'I  he  town- 
council  was  just  in  session  when  there  was 
heard  a  turbulent  scuffling  up  the  narrow 
stairs.  The  Burgomaster  turned  ghastly  pale, 
as  did  such  ot  his  council  as  were  awake  — 
they  remembered  the  French  Revolution  and 
other  popular  uprisings.  I  he  door  burst  open, 
and  in  stai^ered  lour  men  with  a  muffled 
load.  An  oil-cloth  bein^  in  ba^y  breeches 
and  a  hu^'e  sou'wester  addressed  no  one  in 
particular  in  a  hoarse  voice  that  lay  in  am 
bush  behind  a  beard  like  a  yellow  whisk 
broom.  He  was  the  skipper  ol  77/c  I  lurstv 


THK    BURGOMASTER'S    SOFA  185 

One,  the  canal  boat  plying  between  Rotter 
dam  and  Kitwyk. 

"  Mere  it  is  at  last,  your  1  lonor,  and  here 
is  the  bill,"  and  the  old  sea-dog-  rolled  for 
ward  and  pulled  his  forelock. 

There  was  a  dead  silence.  The  Burgo 
master  was  embarrassed  ;  he  blew  his  nose 
and  coughed.  It  was  Jonkheer  van  Loo  who 
spoke. 

"  What  —  what  —  what  is  it  ?  " 

"The  Burgomaster's  sofa." 

"The;  sofa  lor  the  council-chamber,"  Myn 
heer  Defregge  explained. 

"Never!"  shouted  Jonkheer  van  Loo, 
while  the  town-council  breathed  hard,  which 
was  all  that  could  be  reasonably  expected  of 
them,  but  the)-  gazed  at  Jonkheer  van  Loo  as 
if  their  only  hope  was  in  him. 

"  You  are  a  demagogue  !  "  cried  that  pa 
triotic  man.  ''It  is  such  as  you  who  begin 
with  sofas  and  end  with  thrones  !  But  we  are 
equal, —  no  one  shall  sit  upon  a  sola  above 
his  fellow  man." 

1  here  was  an  approving  murmur. 

"  Blcxem  !  here:  it  shall  stay,"  and  the  Bur 
gomaster  beat  the  new  baize  cover  with  his 
fist. 


iS6  KITWYK    STOKIKS 

"  \\  e  refuse  an  appropriation,"  the  town- 
council  cried  as  one  man. 

(  n  what  avail  that  Mynheer  Defrej^e  was 
a  man  ol  iron?  His  council  was  unmoved  by 
the  horsehair  Ld«ry.  or  the  brass  nails,  ami 
they  declared  a  hundred  ami  litty  guilders  lor 
a  sola  to  be  hivji  treason,  and  refused  to  pa\ 
the  bill.  1  he  liur^omaster  retired  in  out 
ra^'ed  dignity,  and  the  merchant  in  Rotter 
dam  clamored  tor  his  pay  by  canal-boat; 
feeling  in  Kitwyk  ran  to  fever-heat  —  the 
outcome  was  unceitain  —  ]iist  as  the  time 
apj)roached  tor  the  wedding  ot  [uflrouw 

I  )(.fV(.(--u-(!. 

I  he  parsonage  was  ready.  A  fragrant 
LM'apevme  blossomed  over  the  porch,  and  a 
[line  rose  twined  around  the  windows,  and 
the  bull  bricks  glowed  in  the  early  summer 
sun.  I  he  parsonage  cat  washed  its  lace  until 
it  was  a  \\omler  that  it  had  any  lelt,  tor  |ut- 
trouw  |)elre^^c  \\  as  ti»  marry  her  I  )ominic. 

I  here  had  been  other  weddings  in  Kitwyk 
before,  but  this  one  Mynheer  I  )efrei_^e  pro 
posed  should  mark  an  era,  lor  in  the  march  ot 
Progress  he  had  learned  a  ^reat  deal.  An 
ancient  ,^'lass  coach  was  resurrected  out  ol  the 
hav  lolt  ol  \\illiam  the  Silent,  its  windows 


THE    BURGOMASTKR'S    SOFA  187 

were  washed,  its  tarnished  gildings  were  bur 
nished,  and  the  cushions,  in  which  the  festive 
moths  had  made  havoc,  were  beaten  and 
patched.  T\vo  horses,  which  in  private  life 
tilled  the  soil,  were  tor  a  couple  ot  weeks  fed 
on  the  fat  of  the  land.  Kitwyk  watched  these 
preparations  with  bated  breath. 

All  the  Defregges  from  far  and  near  were 
invited,  except  an  old  aunt  in  Sippken  who 
had  money,  but  for  whom  Mynheer  Defregge 
would  have  been  obliged  to  blush.  She  was 
an  eccentric  lady  with  a  great  distillery  and  a 
fortune  in  pigs.  She  was  also  frightfully  dem 
ocratic,  and  it  was  rumored  that  she  approved 
of  the  krench  Revolution.  She  was  a  mighty 
lean  old  woman,  with  a  beak  of  a  nose,  a  black 
front,  and  a  huge  black  cap;  she  wore,  besides, 
men's  boots  and  blue  stockings,  and  took 
snuff. 

I  he  day  before  the  wedding  Kitwyk  was 
shaken  to  its  center.  Kobus,  the;  town  trum 
peter,  armed  with  a  hand-bell,  perambulated 
the  streets  and  announced  that  a  carriage 
would  in  turn  be  sent  to  all  the  guests  bidden 
to  the:  wedding  banquet  of  (uffrouw  I  Vfregge. 
I  his  was  indeed  a  sign  of  Progress,  for  Kit- 
w\'k  had  hitherto  attended  all  such  state  occa- 


iSS  Kl  I  VVY  K    STORIKS 

sions  on  its  lee;s.  It  was  further  requested  — 
at  least  such  was  the  rumor — that  no  one 
would  betray  ill  breeding  by  coming  on  loot. 
Mynheer  I  K-lre^e  had  debated  a  lon^  time 
it  at  the  civil  marriage,  at  which  as  chief 
magistrate  he  was  to  preside,  he  should  be 
discovered  in  the  council-chamber  seated  in 
all  his  idory  on  the  sola  in  that  attitude  which 
had  been  his  dream,  or  if  the  guests  were  to 
assemble  and  he  were  then  to  sink  majestically 
in  that  sacred  corner.  lie  finally  decided  to 
appeal"  |ust  before  the  bride  and  ^room,  and 
he  L^ave  very  particular  directions  to  kobus 
to  miard  the  sola  to  prevent  any  sacrilegious 
person  from  usurping'  his  place.  So,  hall  an 
hour  before  the  ceremony,  kobus  unlocked 
the  town-hall  and  patrolled  the  length  ol  that 
noble  piece  of  furniture,  while  the  old  burgo 
masters  on  the  walls  looked  very  uneasy. 

At    hist    the    I  )efre^e    (Lltls    were    assembled 

and    the    lUir^'omaster   appeared.       Mis  dream 
was    reah/ed, —  never  was   there   anything   si  > 

majestic  as  his  step,  or  so  red  as  his  lace;  and 

tile     buckles    ot     his     shoes,    and     the     buttons    of 
Ills   coat   shoUe    resplendent.         1  le  looked  about 

\\ith  royal   condescension   and   singled   out   the 
richest  and  worthiest  I  Jelre^^e  whom  to  honor. 


THE    BURGOMASTER'S    SOFA  189 

This  was  a  little  dried-tip  magnate  from  Java 
with  a  bad  liver,  who  was  being-  made  much 
of  by  all  the  Defregges,  and  whose  visit  had 
been  full  of  pleasant  surprises.  The  assembled 
Defregges  were  much  impressed  by  the  cour 
tesy  of  those  great  men,  neither  of  whom 
would  sit  down  before  the  other,  so  at  last 
they  sat  down  simultaneously  on  the  Burgo 
master's  sofa, — or,  rather,  the}"  did  not  sit  down, 
they  simply  disappeared  from  the;  face:  of  the 
earth,  and  for  a  moment  the  assembled  De 
fregges  were  paralyzed,  but  at  the  sound  of 
heart-rending  cries  they  flew  to  the  rescue. 

Kitwyk  harbored  a  traitor! 

The  seat  of  that  fatal  sofa  had  been  un 
screwed;  it  had  given  way,  and  the  two  dis 
tinguished  martyrs  had  sunk  into  a  horse-hair 
abyss,  and  both,  what  with  rage;  and  standing 
on  their  heads  for  a  couple  of  minutes,  were 
in  imminent  danger  of  apoplexy. 

When  they  at  last  emerged  the  magnate 
from  Java's  coat  was  split  up  the  back,  and 
his  liver  was  frightfully  upset,  and  as  for  his 
dignity -- but,  oh  heavens!  what  could  heal 
his  dignity.  As  for  the  Burgomaster,  he  had 
just  time  enough  to  fling  himself  in  the  famil 
iar  chair  in  which  three  centuries  of  burgo- 


i yo  KITWYK    STORIKS 

masters  had  reposed,  when  Juffrouw  I  oni  ap 
peared,  all  in  white,  her  taa:  a  little  pair,  and 
the  sparkle  in  her  eyes  subdued  as  she  clum; 
to  the  arm  <>t  her  I  )<>mime.  Both  were  pro- 
totindly  oblivious  to  the  agitation  in  the  air, 
such  is  the  seltishness  ot  lo\'e,  and  [uftrouw 
Defreeze  plighted  her  troth  cheerfully  indit- 
terent  to  the  edoom  ot  her  excellent  father, 
only  tilled  with  a  passionate  wonder  \\hy  she 
should  lie  so  happy.  Probably  she  had  not 
deserved  it,  for  she  was  but  a  worldly  yonn^ 
tiling;  but  perhaps  he  was  not  quite  so  ^ood, 
nor  so  in~eat,  nor  so  perfect  as  she  thought, 
but  she  never  found  it  out. 

[utfrouw  I  )eire<4~i4"e  had  vanished,  and  it  was 
youn^"  Mevrouw  I  )ebray  who  tied  to  her  little 
room  tor  a  last  glimpse  of  herself  in  an  old 
tarnished  mirror  with  a  true  lover's  knot  on 
top.  She  looked  at  her  white  linage  with 
serious  1  >lue  eyes. 

"  Me\'rou\\-  I  )ebray,  \'ou  are  a  1  )ommie's 
\\~ite  no\\,"she  said,  and  folded  her  hands,  and 
her  eyes  became  dim  with  happy  tears. 
"  ( iod  bless  my  dear  I)ominie,"  she  mur- 
mured  to  hersdt. 

In  the  I)ctre^^e  kitchen  the  wedding  ban- 
quet  \\as  approaching  a  delicious  perfection 


THE    BURGOMASTER'S    SOEA  191 

The  tables  were  set  through  the  hall  and  the 
living  rooms,  and  they  glittered  with  silver 
and  crystal.  The  Burgomaster  stalked  up  and 
down  in  nervous  agitation,  and  he  pulled  his 
great  watch  out  of  his  pocket  so  often  that  it 
was  warm  with  friction.  The  day  had  not 
been  all  he  had  dreamed,  and  the  magnate: 
from  Java  had  gone  to  bed  to  nurse  his 
liver.  But  the:  glass  coach  was  ready,  he 
himself  had  seen  it  attached  to  the  two  steeds 
of  William  the  Silent,  and  it  only  remained  for 
Duffels  to  fetch  the:  guests.  He  pulled  out 
his  silver  turnip  again.  It  was  high  time  for 
the  first  instalment.  Where  were  Toni  and 
the  Dominie?  lie  roared  upstairs  for  them, 
his  face  was  scarlet  with  worry.  They  hur 
ried  down  and  looked  about  in  surprise  ;  no 
body  was  there  but  the:  Burgomaster,  and  he 
was  grasping  his  head. 

"Father,  what  has  happened?"  and  Toni 
ran  to  him.  Just  then  there  came  a  knock  at 
the:  door,  and  with  a  sigh  of  relief  he  tore  it 
open  and  fell  back,  for,  instead  of  the'  chariot 
of  \\  illiam  the'  Silent  and  four  precious  guests, 
there  came  in  a  lean  old  woman  in  a  snuff- 
colored  cloak  and  armeel  with  a  great  cotton 
umbrella. 


KIT \VVK    STORIKS 


"  I  )on't  you  know  me  ?  "  she  cried. 

Mynlieer  glared  speechlessly  at  her  while 
she  pulled  out  a  horn  box  irom  a  pocket  under 
her  skirts  and  took  a  pinch  of  snuff.  "  And 


Mynheer  1  Vlre^e  stamped  up  and  down 
with  both  his  leet. 

"Robespierre,  my  -"ood  woman," — the 
I  )ommie  interposed. 

"Voting  man,  don't  interfere.  \\herc  's 
my  do--  Robespierre?  I  sent  him  to  you  by 
canal  boat,  nephew." 

Hut  the  I  Mir-'omaster  was  beyond  control; 
lie  had  dashed  into  the  market-place  and 
came  back  wrin^ini^  his  hands.  I  he  idass 
coach  \\'as  still  placidly  standing  in  the  yard 
of  \Villiam  the  Silent. 

\\'here  was  the  traitor,   I  hiffels  ! 

"  I  le  's  tor^'otten  them,"  lie  sobbed. 

"  I'or^'otten  what?"  the  unpresentable  old 
woman  asked,  cracking  a  handtul  of  almonds 
that  she  had  taken  from  a  dish. 

"  The  -'nests  !  " 

"  Never  mind 
her   dusty    cloak 
more  unpresentable  than  ever,  whereupon  she 
dropped     into    the    chair    opposite    the    bride 


THK    BURGOMASTER'S    SOFA  193 

and  groom —  the  very  chair  that  had  been  re 
served  tor  the  magnate  from  Java,  and  put 
her  sharp  elbows  on  the  satin  damask. 

"  To-morro\v  I  shall  hunt  up  Robespierre. 
He  wore  a  blanket,  and  his  dinner  was  in  a 
rush  basket.  I  send  him  to  do  my  visiting,  and 
I  judge  of  folks  just  as  the)'  treat  him,"  and 
she  bent  her  beetling  eyebrows  on  the  agi 
tated  back  ol  the  Burgomaster.  "And  now, 
for  Heaven's  sake,  hurry  up  the  dinner,  lor 
1  'm  tarnished  !  "  and  indeed  she  had  eaten  up 
all  the  loose  confections  and  fruit  within  reach. 

Just  then  there;  was  a  mysterious  shuffling 
at  the  front  door.  It  (lew  open,  and  before 
them  stood  the:  unfortunate  Duffels,  steadied 
behind  by  two  Samaritans,  one  of  whom,  it  is 
painful  to  confess,  was  Mynheer  van  Steen's 
Jaspar;  and  Duffels  smiled  on  Mynheer  De- 
fregge  with  foolish,  lackluster  eyes,  and  it  did 
not  require  a  prophet  to  discover  that  Duffels 
was  abominably  drunk. 

"Take  him  home!"  the  Burgomaster 
groaned,  and  Duffels,  with  a  singular  inability 
to  discover  whether  to  walk  on  his  head  or 
his  heels,  was  borne  away. 

Then  it  was  that  messengers  were  sent  in 
hot  haste  for  the  guests,  and  though  some, 


KITWVK    STUK1KS 


\\ith  ii  sense  ot  injury,  bad  already  L^'one  to 
bed,  none  ot  them  could  In-  accused  ot  ill- 
breed  me;.  Mevrouw  van  Loo  arrived  in 
Mack  velvet  and  bird-ot-  paradise,  lull  ot  meek 
thankfulness  that  the  idory  had  departed  Iroin 
the  occasion.  1  he  dinner  was  overdone,  the 
hot  drinks  were  cold,  and  the  cold  drinks  were 
warm,  l>ut  she  never  murmured.  A  tn^htlul 
old  woman  with  a  hook  nose  and  a  shocking 
l>ad  dre^s  sat  in  the  place  ot  honor  opposite 
the  bride  and  ^room,  and,  it  possible,  put  a 
la^t  hh^ht  on  the  occasion.  1  he  tact  was  that 
the  only  ones  who  profited  by  these  tremen 
dous  preparation^-,  and  Mynheer  I  )efre^'i^e's 
mama  lor  progress,  were:  the  worthy  steeds 
(>t  \\  illiam  the  Silent.  \\ho  tor  two  weeks  had 
eaten  tln-ir  heads  ott.  As  tor  the  edass  coach, 
it  a^'ain  retired  to  the  hay-lolt.  where  it  gath 
ered  a  ne\\'  supply  ot  dust  and  cobwebs  in 
preparation  tor  another  ^reat  occasion. 


IV 


THE    BURGOMASTER'S    SOFA  195 

to    the    name    of   Robespierre,  and    wears    a 

blanket." 

Beside  Kobus,  the  town-crier,  stalked 
Aunt  Defregge,  her  cow-hide  boots  crunch 
ing-  the  cobblestones,  while  with  her  um 
brella  she  poked  into  all  the  doorways  and 
under  the  hedges,  as  if  she  rather  suspected 
the  vanished  Robespierre  must  be  lurking 
somewhere  about.  As  the.}'  reached  the 
house  of  juffrouw  Rozenboom,  the  muslin 
curtain  of  her  one  window  was  violently  agi 
tated,  and  she  was  discovered  making  strange 
signals. 

"  What,"  Aunt  Defregge  asked  in  great 
disgust,  "does  that  absurd  old  tiling  want?" 

o  o 

for  she  had  no  patience  with  feminine  weak 
ness,  and  she  could  see  with  half  an  eye  that 
Juffrouw  Ro/enboom  wore  leather  gloves,  and 
that  there  was  a  droop  about  her,  as  of  a 
superannuated  water-lily,  which  enraged  the 
old  woman.  The  door  was  opened,  and  they 
were  mysteriously  ushered  into  the  back 
room,  which  was  at  once  kitchen  and  bed 
room,  the  bed  serving  as  dining-table,  and 
being  still  decorated  with  the  remains  of  a 
frugal  breakfast.  Juffrouw  Rozenboom  laid 
her  finger  on  her  lips. 


i</>  KITYYYK    STOR1KS 

"  There  is  in  this  house,"  she  whispered, 
"a  little  black-and-white  do^  with  a  stumpy 
tail  and  a  blanket,  and  he  came  six  weeks 
ago." 

(  )h.   [uffrouw  Rozenboom  ! 

The  truth  was,  she  could  n't  abide  do^s, 
and  it  Robespierre  had  only  been  Bitted  \\-ith 
speech,  he  could  have  told  how  often  he  had 
been  greeted  by  a  pailful  of  soapsuds,  dashed 
over  him,  at  unexpected  encounters,  by  that 
prejudiced  lady. 

"  1  le  lives  with  my  brother  across  the  en 
try,"  she  concluded,  and  courtesied  them  out, 
and  smiled  as  sourly  as  beseems  a  lady  with 
poetical  aspirations. 

Kobus  thumped  at  the  schoolmaster's  door, 
and  Aunt  1  Jetre^'^'e  loomed  up  behind  ;  and  of 
the  two  culprits  within,  one  looked  wistfully 
at  Kobus  as  at  the  personification  of  righteous 
law.  and  the  other  culprit  recognized  the  hook 
nose,  and  the  familiar  umbrella  that  pounded 
so  masterfully  on  the  bare  floor,  until  Robes 
pierre,  his  little  stumpy  tail  trailing,  crept 
out  from  between  the  schoolmaster's  le^'s  and 
stood  confessed  in  all  his  base  ingratitude. 

"Yon  recognize  him?"    Kobus  asked. 

"I    do,"   and   Aunt    Defregg'e    snapped    her 


TIIK    BURGOMASTKR'S    SOFA  197 

snuff-box  with  a  loud  report.  Kobus  de 
parted,  and  Robespierre  sank  on  his  fat 
haunches  and  bowed  his  head. 

The  schoolmaster  looked  uncertainly  at  his 
visitor,  who  had  plumped  down  on  a  horse 
hair  stool  and  was  staring  at  him. 

"  If  it  had  not  been  for  that  singular  female 
across  the  way,  I  should  never  have  found 
him,"  she  said. 

The;  schoolmaster  bowed  his  head  over  a 
pile;  of  dog-eared  copy-books. 

"  Hum!  so  you  did  n't  mean  to  give  him 
back  ?  " 

He  was  still  silent. 

"When  did  you  find  him  ?" 

"One  night —  he  was  lost  and  starving  — 

o  <_> 

I  brought  him  home." 

Aunt  Defreg'g'e  pulled  up  her  petticoats, 
displayed  her  boots,  and  took  a  pinch  of 
snuff. 

"  I  am  a  lonely  old  man,"  —  the  schoolmaster 
was  crushed  by  a  sense  of  his  great  iniquity,— 
"  and  never  before  have;  had  some  one  at 
home;  glad  to  see  me;  and  so — I  could  n't 
give;  him  up.  It  was  wicked,"  he-  confessed  ; 
"but  his  bark  is  just  like;  talking";  and  at 
this  complimentary  description  of  his  merits 


H,.S  KITWVK    STORIKS 

Robespierre   crept    Lack    to   the  schoolmaster, 
and  they  Loth  looked  wistfully  at  their   jud^e. 

It  was  such  a  poor,  shal>l>y  little  room, 
with  whitewash  on  the  window  instead  ol  cur 
tains,  and  the  place  where:  the  ancestral  sola 
once  stood  dolefully  l>are.  except  lor  the  black 
marks  where  the  RozenLoom  ancestors  had 
leaned  their  heads  against  the  wall. 

"  Lord  !  have  n't  you  anything  Letter  to  sit 
on  than  that?"  and  Aunt  I  h-fre^c  Lounced 
In  >m  the  h<  >rsehair  stool. 

(Mice  thei'e  had  Leen  a  sola,  the  school 
master  explained,  with  a  sivdi  ;  Lut  now  it  Le- 
li  HiLM-d  to  his  sister. 

"  I  lave  y<  Hi  IK  i  arm-chair  ?  " 

"  Xo ;  only  when  I  dream, —  a  luxurious 
dream,"  he  answered,  smiling. 

"  Look  here,"  Aunt  1  Jelre^'^'e  s.ud  solemnly ; 
"\\hoe\er  found  my  do^  was  to  have  a  re 
ward.  Noii  shall  have  an  arm  chair." 

"   I  hank  you.   Lut   I   don't   want  a  reward." 

Such  magnanimity  she  could  not  L^rasp. 

"  Lut  just  think  ot  a  ^'reat,  \\arm  easy-chair 
on  which  \  ou  can  sit  Lv  the  window  and 


THE    BURGOMASTER'S    SOFA  199 

"  I  will  take  nothing  for  befriending  one  1 
love,"  he  said,  a  little  impatiently. 

"Well,  if  you  won't,  you  won't,"  Aunt  I)e- 
fregge  retorted  ;  "  but  now  I  '11  take  my  dog  "  ; 
and,  with  a  businesslike  swoop,  she  had  the 
reluctant  Robespierre  under  her  arm  ;  and  so 
juffrouwRozenboom,  watching  behind  her  mus 
lin  curtains,  had  the  joy  of  seeing  them  depart. 

For  a  moment  she  stood  in  the  market 
place  before  the  town-pump,  lost  in  thought ; 
then  she:  was  aroused  by  the  struggles  of 
Robespierre  and  the  clatter  of  wooden  shoes  : 
a  miscellaneous  throng  was  hurrying'  toward 
the  town-hall.  There  was  the  magnate  from 
Java,  \vho  had  got  the  better  of  his  liver, 
supported  by  other  noble  Detregges.  Aunt 
Deiregge  gave  the  reluctant  Robespierre  a 
quieting  thump,  and  followed  the  crowd. 

A  staring  placard  was  nailed  to  the  door 
of  the  town -hall. 

Auction  Sale,  this  Day,  for  Debt: 

A  SOFA 
Mistakenly  called  the  Burgomaster's. 

"  I  lo  !  "  and  Aunt  Defregge  grinned;  and, 
lifting  her  petticoat  so  as  to  give  free  action  to 
her  feet,  she  climbed  up  to  the  council-chamber. 


KITWYK    STORIKS 


It  was  a  scene  <>l  wild  excitement.  Myn 
heer  van  Stem,  his  tare  purple  with  emotion, 
stood  on  a  table  and  haran-jued  the  multitude. 


1  )own  with  the  denia; 


'OL'"lie 


I  " 


(list     then     heavy     footsteps    echoed     on     the 

stairs.      And   the   Burgomaster  burst  into  the 
room. 

Mynheer  van  Steen  thumped  the  wall  with 
his  mallet. 

"  \Vho  makes  a  bid  tor  this  sola?" 

'I  hen  the  Burgomaster  found  words;  he 
made  tin-  only  bid.  Mynheer  van  Steen 
trembled  with  raj^e.  The  Burgomaster  looked 
insolently  about.  Mynheer  van  Steen  in  a 
passion  was  about  to  knock  the  hammer  tor 
the  third  time,  when  a  shrill  voice  piped  up 
out  ol  a  distant  corner  : 

"  I  '11  teach  \ou  to  turn  my  do^  <>ut  ol 
d<  x  n's  ! 

"  It  's  (inly  my  old  tool  <>t  an  aunt,  roared 
the  Urn--!  >master.  "  She  's  mad  ! 

••  I  'm  not  mad,  nephew,"  she  retorted 
shrilly ;  "  but  I  'm  rich  !  " 

And,  to  the  rapture  ot  the  crowd,  they  bid 
against  each  other;  and  the  Burgomaster  lost 
his  head,  and  Aunt  I  h-tre^e  took  si 
taunted  him,  and  bid  brisklv  higher. 


THE    BURGOMASTER'S    SOFA  201 

"Two  hundred  guilders,"  shrieked  Myn 
heer  van  Steen,  and  pounded  against  the  wall. 
"  Who  bids  more  ?  " 

No  one.     As  for  the  Burgomaster,  he  stam- 

o 

peded  down-stairs,  and  realized  that  he  could 
never  be  again  what  he  had  been.  And  so 
Aunt  Defregge,  much  to  her  own  surprise, 
found  herself  in  possession  of  the  Burgo 
master's  sofa. 

"  Where  shall  it  be  taken  to?"  Mynheer 
van  Steen  asked,  and  he  bowed  to  the  ground. 
Aunt  Defregge,  with  Robespierre  in  her 
arms,  stared  at  him  vacantly  for  a  moment; 
for  she  was  bewildered  by  the  excitement,  and 
there  was  a  flush  on  her  yellow  cheek-bones. 

"Taken  to?"  she  repeated,  and  Robes 
pierre  began  to  whine  and  struggle.  She 
gave  him  another  thump,  and  stood  so  long 
considering  that  Mynheer  van  Steen  did  have 
serious  doubts  as  to  her  sanity  ;  but  presently 
she  spoke  up. 

"  Take  it  to  the  schoolmaster's  house  ;  and 
see  here,"-  — and  she  thrust  the  reluctant  Robes 
pierre  into  Mynheer  van  Steen's  arms, — "  he  's 
to  go  with  it.  Say  they  're  from  the  old  wo 
man  ;  he  '11  know." 

So,  after  all,  Juffromv  Rozenboom  was  des- 


lined  to  hear  Robespierre  bark  tor  many  a 
lone;  day,  and  the  vacant  place  in  the  school 
master's  room  \\  as  tilled  by  a  sola  so  comfort 
able  and  so  L^'oi'LM'ons  that  it  seemed  more 
than  ever  like  a  dream.  As  tor  Mynheer  I  )e- 
freL^v,  he  not  only  lost  the  Burgomaster's  .sola, 
but,  because  misfortunes  never  come  singly, 
Kitwyk,  bein^"  terribly  tired  of  the  march  of 
Progress,  the  very  next  time  declined  to  re- 
elect  him  to  his  exalted  station.  1  here  was  a 
tumultuous  meeting  of  the  town-council,  the 
result  ot  which  was  that  Nicholas  de  (  iroot, 
who  had  pined  tor  the  honor  tor  forty  live 
years,  found  himselt  at  the  height  of  his 
ambition,  and  I\itw\k  breathed  freely  once 
a^ain.  Mynheer  de  (  iroot  abhorred  inno 
vations;  he  even  complained  ot  canal  boat- 
as  a  tin*  hvelv  means  ot  locomotion.  1  !<•  did 
what  was  supremely  wise;  he  slept  during 
all  political  crises,  and  he  is  remembered  to 
this  day  as  one  ot  the  ablest  ol  the  burgomas 
ters  ( >t  Kitw  vk. 


JOSSELIN 


THE  Kitwyk  windmill  overlooked  the  ca 
nal,  with  its  boats  and  barges  laden  with 
grain  moored  to  the  banks,  waiting  to  be  un 
loaded  by  the  great,  creaking  pulleys.  The 
mill  was  a  gray  old  shaft  surrounded  midwa\ 
by  a  balcony  reached  by  a  flight  of  stone 
steps,  each  of  which  had  in  its  day  served 
as  mill-stone.  \\  hen  the  balcony  door  was 
opened  there  streamed  out  the  aroma  ol 
freshly  ground  grain  ;  even  the  miller's  eye 
lashes  were  powdered  with  Hour,  and  there; 
was  a  haze  of  it  on  her  red  cheeks  :  for  the 
miller  of  Kitwyk  was  a  young  maid. 

Man)'  a  skipper,  waiting  tor  his  grain  to  be 
ground,  had  watted  vain  sighs  to  the  miller 
standing  in  the  doorway,  her  dark-blue  skirts 
pinned  about  her  hips,  her  sleeves  rolled  up, 
and  a  white  handkerchief  tied  in  a  knot  at  her 
breast,  while  on  each  temple,  under  her  muslin 


204  KITYYYK    STORIKS 

cap,  stood  a  bold  ^okl  corkscrew,  the  rock  on 
which  many  a  I  hitch  idyl  has  wrecked. 

1  he  \  an  delderns  had  been  millers  ot  Kit- 
wyk  tor  three  hundred  years,  and  mighty 
[jroud  they  were  ot  their  descent;  and  there 
never  was  a  hitch  in  the  lineage  until,  con 
trary  to  all  tradition,  the  last  heir  to  the  mill 
proved  t< >  he  twins. 

It  was  the  idrl  who  adored  the  mill,  with 
its  dim,  winding  stairs  lost  in  the  L^reat  Mack 
cap  turning  softly  m  its  eroove  so  that  the 
win^s  could  catch  each  l»reath  ot  the  shifting 
wind. 

Maarten,  the  l>oy,  was  slight  and  dark  and 
dreamy,  with  wild  lon^in^s  that  even  strayed 
beyond  where  the  North  Sea  heats  against 
the  sand  dunes;  and  he  hated  the  old  weather 
beaten  mill,  the  level  fields  tad  in;;  into  the 
lia/y  distance,  and  the  silence  broken  only  by 
the  tinkling  c< >w  1  >ells. 

kitwyk  disapproved  ot  romance,  and  it  it 
tolerated  that  fatal  quality  in  youn^  1  hiymar 
van  I  wist,  it  was  because,  as  the  direct  de 
scendant  ot  a  pirate  m  the  rei^'ti  of  Philip  the 
Second,  he  was  the  victim  of  heredity.  I  low- 
ever,  the  last  \  an  I  \\ist  was  nothing  more 
bloodthirsty  than  third  mate  on  the  /;\syV/'- 


JOSSKLIN  205 

ancc  dc  Jong,  a  merchantman  plying"  between 
Rotterdam  and  the  Dutch  colonies  in  Java. 
Twice  a  year  he  came  back  to  demoralize  the 
placid  youth  of  Kitwyk,  and  to  see  his  old 
parents.  But  once  when  he  came  back  the 
two  chairs  by  the  hearth  were  empty,  and  he 
sat  alone  in  his  familiar  place,  his  head  in  his 
hands.  When  he  went  he  closed  the  green 
blinds,  and  stood  for  the  last  time  by  his  mo 
ther's  chair,  and  laid  his  cheek  on  the  faded 
chintz  cushion  against  which  her  irail  face 
had  rested;  then  he  locked  the  door  behind 
him.  There  was  a  spider  waiting-  to  weave 
its  web  across  the  rust\-  lock,  and  it  remained 
undisturbed  for  man)-  a  long  year  ;  for  now, 
when  he  returned  to  Kitwyk,  it  was  William 
the  Silent  who  creaked  him  a  dismal  welcome. 

Kit\v\'k  listened  to  his  marvelous  adven 
tures  with  forbearance  until  one  day  he  cap 
ped  the  climax  to  his  riotous  imagination  :  he 
had  seen  mountains,  he  said,  higher  than  the 
Kitwyk  church  steeple.  After  that  he  was 
avoided  :  the  lie  was  too  barefaced. 

I  [owever,  the  stray  arrow  shot  home. 

"Josselin,  now  I  know!  1  mean  to  be  a 
sailor  like  Duymar  van  Twist." 

"  You  will  break  father's  heart.  Maarten." 


2of>  KITWYK    STOKIKS 

I  he  miller's  room,  lo\v  aiul  smoke-stained, 
overlooked  the  canal,  and  here  three  centu 
ries  of  millers  had  kept  then'  accounts,  and 
watched  the  coining  and  going  ot  the  boats. 
I  he  last  miller  ot  kitwyk  was  a  proud  and 
silent  man,  and  Sundays,  when  he  paced  up 
and  down  before  the  mill,  his  gold-headed 
cane;  behind  his  back  and  his  chin  well  up, 
he  was  a  very  honorable  and  a  very  appalling 
sight.  One  day  the  miller's  fist  came  crash 
ing  down  on  the  table,  and  Maarten,  the  heir, 
crept  out  of  his  presence,  his  face  as  white  as 
the  best  flour  ground  in  the  mill. 

"  \\  ait  till  you  see  me  sail  a  man-of-war  up 
the  /uyder  Zee!  '  he  cried  to  (osselin  ;  but 
his  voice  shook. 

So  the  heir  rebelled,  and  OIK-  day  he  disap 
peared,  and  his  father  never  uttered  his  name 
again  ;  but  in  a  week  he  became  an  old  man. 
I'or  ten  years  they  never  heard  ;  then  a  letter 
came  to  [osselin.  Not  a  word  of  sailing  a 
man-of-war  up  the  /uyder  Zee,  only  that  he 
was  second  mate  on  a  merchantman,  the 
Memory  (>/  I\nigarih\  bound  to  Ilombay  from 
Rotterdam,  and  that  he  had  a  wife  —  a  little, 
young  thing  —  and  a  baby,  a  sturdy  chap  as 
like  his  grandfather  the  miller  as  two  peas. 


"fc 


u 

•'  ,-* 


JOSSKL1N  207 

But  when  Josselin  wrote,  and  implored  him 
to  bring  wife  and  child  to  the  mill,  he  never 
answered.  So  the  miller  of  Kitwyk  was,  af 
ter  all,  a  girl ;  for  her  father's  working-days 
were  over  before  his  time,  and  she  had  no 
leisure  lor  romancing,  she  declared. 

Still,  her  romance  came  all  the  same,  and 
sauntered  persistently  past  the  mill  toward 
sunset;  and  one  da)- she  found  herself  looking 
very  intend)-  into  a  tarnished  mirror. 

"Josselin,  Josselin,"  she  said  reproachfully, 
"  1  tear  this  is  love"  ;  and  so  it  was. 

And,  as  if  Duymar  van  Twist,  whose  riot 
ous  imagination  had  led  poor  Maarten  astray, 
had  not  done  them  harm  enough,  he  must  lay 
siege  to  the  miller  ol  Kitwyk,  and  inconsider 
ately  obtrude  his  dark  face  into  the  serious 
reckonings  of  the  mill,  until  the  miller,  who 
never  before  had  wasted  an  hour,  began  to 
linger  on  the  balcony  at  sunset,  watching  the 
twilight  fields,  and  dreaming.  And  all  Kit 
wyk  but  the  old  miller  knew  of  fosselin's 
romance;;  and  the:  first  time  Josselin  wrote  a 
love-letter,  and  sent  it  to  Rotterdam  by  trek- 
schuit,  such  imagination  as  Kitwyk  possessed 
was  stirred  to  its  depths.  It  was  rumored 
that  she,  wrote  as  manv  as  one  letter  a  week, 


208  KITWYK    STORIKS 

and  Kitwyk  reali/ed  the  mighty  power  of 
love  when  it  reckoned  up  the  postage.  So 
slow  was  tlie  progress  o|  Jossclin's  love-story 
that  one  day,  as  they  strolled  alonv;  the  loot- 
path  through  the  wheat-field,  I)uymar  broke 
the  silence  with  a  <|iiestion  —  "  I  low  lon^-  has 
my  patience  lasted,  [osselin  ,J  " 

"  I'i\e  years,  I  hiymar.  I  Jut  when  Maarten 
returns  — 

"  hut,  my  (  iod.  il  he  never  returns  ?  I  lave 
I  not  been  patient?  (  »ive  me  the  rest  of 
your  lite,  my  [osselin." 

1  here  was  not  a  soul  in  si^ht  ;  the  ripen 
ing"  e;rain  swayed  softly  about  them;  a  cricket 
chirped.  lie  put  his  hands  on  her  strong 
youn^  shoulders,  and  looked  deep  into  her 
eyes. 

"  \  on  know,  [osselin,  that  I  am  not  always 
a  patient  man." 

"And  what  will  you  do?"  she  cried  m 
sudden  defiance. 

"  1  shall  j^'o  away  and  never  come  back." 

She  stooped,  and  jiicked  a  blood-red  poppy 
iu  the  yellow  wheat,  and  tore  the  delicate 
petals. 

"  Then  e'o  and  never  come  back,  and  she 
turned  away. 


JOSSKLIN  209 

"  Josselin,  Josselin,  for  God's  sake,  listen  ! 
I  did  not  mean  it  !  " 

She  could  not  speak,  for  her  voice  trem 
bled,  and  she  did  not  look  at  him,  or  he 
would  have  seen  the  tears  in  her  eyes.  So 
he  walked  beside  her  in  moody  silence,  and 
doubted  her  love. 


\Vm:\  Duyinar  again  returned  to  Kitwyk, 
it  was  on  a  winter  night.  lie  had  a  message 
from  the  sea.  Me  climbed  the  mill  steps  and 
paused  an  instant,  his  hand  on  the  brass 
knocker.  The  lull  moon  shone:  across  the 
fields,  and  turned  to  silver  fretwork  the  frost 
on  the  stunted  willows  along  the  canal.  The 
lights  irom  the  scattered  houses  fell  with  a 
red  glow  across  the:  moonlight;  the  shadows 
la)-  keen  and  clear-cut  on  the  white  roads. 
'I  he  mill  door  opened. 

"  Duymar,  Duymar,  you  have  come  back 
to  me  again  !  " 

For  a  moment  Josselin  forgot  her  strength 
and  pride,  and  clung  to  him,  sobbing,  her 
head  on  his  breast.  Suddenly  she  looked  up. 

"  \Yhat  has  happened  ?  " 

"  Child,  child,   I  have  bad  news." 


2io  K1TWYK    STORIKS 

She  tore  herself  from  him:  lie  was  the  mes 
senger  ot  death. 

"Tlie  McDiorv  lost --lost  with  all  on 
board  !  She  repeated  the  words  like  one 
da/ed,  until  she  saw  by  his  laee  that  some 
one  else  had  heard. 

In  the  doorway  stood  the  old  miller,  and 
tor  the  first  time  m  years  he  uttered  his  son's 
name. 

"  Maarten.  my  son  .J 

"  Lost  !  I  here  was  silence;  then  the  old 
man  laughed,  stretched  out  his  hands,  and  tell 
senseless  to  the  ground. 

KnwvK  lay  under  ice  and  snow.  The  ca 
nals  cut  like  black  ribbons  across  the  mead 
ows  and  marshes.  In  [osselin's  room,  in  a 
cradle  in  which  generations  ot  millers  had 
been  rocked,  a  sturdy  little  chap  lay  sleeping 
peacefully.  I  he  little  youn^  tiling.  Maarten's 
widow,  was  dead  of  a  broken  heart,  and  one 
ni^ht  |osselin  had  returned  from  Rotterdam 
to  the  mill  with  her  only  legacy  asleep  on  her 
breast. 

1  he    wind    moaned   about    the   i^ray    tower, 
and    beat    against    two    lonely   figures   sti'ii^' 
''lin1'-  aloiT'   the   hi'diwav.       Xi^ht  after  ni^ht 


JOSSKLIN  211 

the  old  miller  plodded  along  in  a  vain  search 
for  the  Memory,  which  would  never  again  sail 
into  an  earthly  harbor.  Sometimes  he  would 
stop  and  stare  piteously  into  the  darkness, 
where  the  frozen  canal  lay  between  dead 
reeds  and  rushes,  and  cry  that  there  was  no 
ship  in  sight,  until  Josselin,  with  her  arms 
about  him,  could  coax  him  home.  The  last 
time  they  found  a  seafaring  man  pacing  up 
and  down  before  the  mill  steps. 

"  You  promised  not  to  come,  Duymar  !  " 

"  How  can  I  sleep,  with  you  wandering 
over  the  country  night  after  night  !  Josselin, 
is  there  to  be  no  end  to  this  ?  " 

The  last  miller  of  Kitwyk  hobbled  up  the 
steps,  and  the  girl  clung  to  his  unresponsive 
old  hand  as  if  it  could  help  her. 

"  Am  I  to  be  sacrificed  forever,  Josselin  ?  ' 

For  a  moment  they  looked  at  each  other  in 
silence  ;  then  the  anger  and  impatience  in  his 
upturned  face  gave  her  strength. 

"No." 

"  Josselin  !  " 

"Duymar,  I  will  not  bring  into  your  life 
the  burden  of  a  sick  old  man  and  a  helpless 
child  who  have  no  one  in  all  the'  world  but 
me."  There  was  no  sound  but  the  rise  and 


212  KITNYYK    STORIKS 

tall  ol  the  wind.  The  old  miller  was  staring 
into  vacancy. 

"1  L^'ive  you  l>ack  your  word,  I  hiymar." 
i  he  wind  creaked  the  still  wind's  ol  the  null  ; 
a  l>at  llew  heavily  past. 

"  Let  it  l>e,  [ossclin.  \\  hat  is  ol  no  value  is 
easily  returned.  Ciood  niidn —  ^ood  l>y." 

I  in  next  morning  the  miller  went  to  work 
with  a  white,  worn  face,  and  her  Idue  eyes 
were  very  dim.  A  to\\  -headed  urchin  clat 
tered  toward  tin-  mill,  carrying  a  package 
clumsily  wrapped  in  a  piece  ol  sailcloth.  It 
must  lie  a  peace-offering,  [osselin  thought, 
and  smiled  as  she  cut  the  ed^es  coarsely  sewn 
together.  I  hen  her  hands  sank  at  her  sides, 
and  she  stared  before  her:  in  her  lap  lay  a 
heap  <il  letters,  and  the  writing  was  her  own. 
I  Ie  had  taken  her  at  her  word,  and  sent  hack 
the  old  love  letters  into  which  she  had  poured 
her  heart  and  soul.  She  sprang  to  her  feet, 
and  they  tell  to  the  ground. 

"I    will    LM  >   to  him:    he   must  forgive   me! 
Ihit   as   she    reached    the  door  a  haliy's  fretful 
\\ail  stopped  her.       fosselin    paused.      "  I    had 
forgotten'      \\'hat    ha\-e    I    to    do    with    love? 

(  iod     help     Ule  ! 


JOSSELIN  213 

She  went  back,  and  picked  up  the  letters 
one  by  one. 

"  He  will  never  know  how  much  I  loved 
him  !  " 

As  for  Duymar  van  Twist,  he  was  on  his 
way  to  Rotterdam,  where  the  Esperance  de 
Jong  la}'  at  anchor  beside  the  Boompjes. 

HE  kept  his  promise,  for  he  never  re 
turned, —  at  least  not  for  thirty-five  years, 
which  is  never, —  and  when  he  did,  the  tow- 
headed  urchin  who  had  carried  back  his  old 
love-letters  to  Josselin  was  burgomaster  — 
Burgomaster  Defregge,  and  a  very  mighty 
man  ;  while  the  mill  baby,  Maarten's  son,  had 
in  turn  become  miller  of  Kitwyk.  He  was 
also  a  worth\r  married  man,  and  the  parent 
ol  twins  who,  at  the  age  of  seven,  were  old  in 
the  ways  of  mischief. 

The  twins  had  no  reverence  for  any  one, 
but  they  had  a  mighty  opinion  of  Great-aunt 
Josselin.  Once,  in  school,  the  Dominie  turned 
his  spectacles  upon  them,  and  propounded  an 
awful  theological  question  : 

"  \Vho  created  heaven  and  earth  ?  " 

As  if  they  did  n't  know  ! 

It   was    a    serious    moment,    but    the    twins 


214  KIIAVVK    STOKIKS 

were   strong   in    the   consciousness    of    know 
ledge. 

"  It  you  please,  sir."  they  piped  as  one 
man,  "(jreat-aunt  fosselin." 

in 

TIIKKI:  was  once  a  man  who  was  a  nine 
clays'  wonder,  l>ut  he  was  an  exception. 
I  here  came  to  an  old  house  in  kitwyk,  which 
had  been  closed  i<  >r  more  than  a  generation, 
an  ancient  man  who  limped  and  whose  clothes 
were  shabby.  Xo  one  welcomed  him  but  a 
company  <>f  beetles  that  scurried  across  the 
deserted  hearth,  and  the  spiders  that  lived 
over  the  key  hole.  1  here  was  a  damp  and 
musty  smell  when  the  door  was  opened,  and 
the  sunshine  tell  across  the  heavy  air. 

A  tumble-down  bench  stood  in  front  ot  the 
house,  under  a  cherry  tree.  lie  lighted  his 
pipe  and  sat  down,  his  elbow  on  his  knee. 
Across  the  helds,  where  the  ^rain  swayed 
gently,  he  could  see  the  old  windmill,  and 
nothing  had  changed  but  the  years  and  he. 
(  )n  the  lispcraiicc  dc  .Aw;'  there  had  been  no 
time  tor  regrets.  It  was  indeed  whispered 
that  the  last  Van  Twist  had  been  true  to  tra 


"   J'HKKE    C\.MK     10    AN    OLD    Hol'SK." 


JOSSELIX  215 

dition,  and  that  he  had  sailed  the  high  seas 
as  a  very  successful  pirate.  At  all  events,  he 
was  the  only  hero  of  Kitwyk,  and  it  was  a 
great  blow  for  the  placid  youth  of  the  town 
to  discover  their  hero  in  a  shabby  old  man 
who  scraped  carrots  before  the  residence  of 
the  Van  Twists ;  the}"  were  reconciled  only 
when  they  saw  the  wonderful  toys  he  could 
make.  One  day  the  twins  brought  to  Great- 
aunt  Josselin  a  basket  carved  out  of  a  cherry 
stone,  with  two  tiny  spoons  inside.  There 
was  a  startled  look  in  her  eyes  as  the  toy  lay 
in  her  broad  palm,  and  when  she  was  alone 
at  last,  she  took  out  of  her  chest  of  drawers  a 
bit  of  silver  paper,  and  in  her  hand  la)'  an 
other  cherry-basket,  and  the  only  difference 
between  the  two  was  thirty-five  years. 

The  pirate  hardly  ever  emerged  out  of  his 
garden-patch,  for  he  was  poor  and  shy  and 
bitter;  so  one  day  the  Dominie  knocked  at 
his  door,  to  lun;  the;  unregenerate  one  to 
church.  Whereupon  he  discovered  that  the; 
only  thing  the  matter  with  the  pirate's  theol 
ogy  was  his  coat,  which  was  pain  full)'  shabby. 
The  Dominie  went  in  search  of  his  main 
stay  in  all  trouble,  Great-aunt  fosselin.  She 
dropped  her  knitting  as  he  told  his  story, 


216  KITWYK  s'roKii-:s 

and    looked   away    from    him    across    the    ha/y 
fields. 

"So    pool'!        and    her    eyes    grew    so    dim 
that    slu-    had    to  wipe    tin-in    on   her  big  linen 
handkerchief.      "  \  ou   see,"  she    explained,— 
tor  the    Dominie  stared   hard.  —  "he  was  once 
a  —  a  —  friend   ot    mine." 

As  a  result  ot  this  interview,  the  pirate  ot 
l\n\vyk  was  requested  l>y  the  I  )ominie  to 
give  private  geography  lessons,  at  a  penny  a 
head,  to  such  infants  whose  parents  telt  this 
sum  to  IK-  well  invested,  and  Aunt  fosselin 
at  once  immolated  her  own  grand-nephews. 
I  hese  unwilling'  victims  were  led  to  the  sacri 
lice  three  times  a  week  l>y  the  miller's  hoy; 
tor  they  had  a  great  aversion  to  knowledge. 
I  he  ama/mg"  artfulness  with  which  Aunt  [os 
sehn  ([iK.-stioned  them  on  their  return1  I  >id 
they  love  their  teacher?  "  \<>  !"  they  roared, 
until  they  found  that  thi^  was  the  wrong 
answer. 

"So  he  drinks  a  cup  ot  coltee  at  tour 
o'clock.  Is  it  good?"  I  he\  smacked  their 
lips,  tor  in  a  temporary  absence  ot  the  pirate 
they  had  tasted. 

"  Ilow  does  he  look  in  his  new  brown 
coat?  Handsome  and  stately  J.  " 


JOSSKLIN  217 

"  No  !  "  whereupon  Aunt  Josselin  locked 
up  the  red-japanned  cake-caddy. 

For  fear  of  meeting  him,  she  never  ven 
tured  over  the  threshold  ol  the  mill,  as  if  the 
thirty-five  years  were  only  a  dream  ;  but  the 
old  tenderness  had  to  find  an  outlet,  and 
the  twins  were  the  unwilling  channels  of 
anonymous  gifts.  The  pirate  never  inquired 
the  name  of  the  donor,  but  his  unerring  in 
stinct  told  him  when  a  jug  of  cream  had 
diminished  on  the  road,  just  as  he  discovered, 
with  a  prophetic  eye,  that  a  string  of  twelve 
sausages  had  in  its  transit  been  reduced  to 
eleven. 

"Who  ever  heard  of  eleven  sausages!" 
and  the  twins  quailed  under  his  spectacles, 
whereupon  he  bent  on  them  his  long,  thin 
nose.  I  hey  burst  into  a  paroxysm  of  cough 
ing —  the  fatal  secret  was  out — they  smelled 
of  garlic. 

O 

"1  am  deeply  grieved,"  said  the  pirate; 
and  he  thrashed  them. 

So  the  twins  suffered  because  of  that  old 
romance;  of  Great-aunt  Josselin's. 

One  late  autumn  day  their  sufferings 
reached  a  climax  —  the  pirate  announced  his 
approaching  birthday. 


2iS  KITWYK    STORll'.S 

\o\v,  when  Aunt  Jossclin  heard  it  was  the 
pirate's  birthday,  she  invaded  the  mill  kitchen 
tor  the  first  time  tor  years,  and,  with  a  Hush 
on  her  handsome  old  face,  she  mixed  a  cake 
which  lor  hulk  and  richness  caused  the  cook 
to  clasp  her  hands  in  ecstasy.  \\  hen  it 
emerged  trom  the  oven  it  was  a  circular, 
nutty  structure,  rich  with  raisins  and  citron, 
on  the  expansive,  deep-brown  bosom  of 
which  was  inscribed,  in  tat  letters  ot  white 
sui^ar,  "To  (  )ur  Faithful  Feather." 

1  low  Aunt  [osselin  had  pondered  over  that 
dedication,  and  lingered  blushing  over  each  let 
ter  !      She  had  even  a  vaeaie  hope  that  the  pi 
rate  mi^'ht  suspect,     \\hereupon  she  wrapped 
it    in    a   sheet   of    white    paper,   \\hich    she    had 
saved   tor  a  ^reat  occasion,  and  tied  it  with  a 
white   ribbon,  a   relic  of   her   girlhood.       Then 
the   precious  burden  was  confided   to   the    un 
willing    care    of    the    twins,    and    she    watched 
them    until    they  were    out    ot    si^lu. 

It  was  a  chilly  afternoon,  and  there  was 
enough  heat  left  in  the  cake  to  strike 
through  the  paper,  alon^  with  a  heavenly 
smell  that  made  them  both  snitt  with  lon^ 
in^.  They  crunched  the  fallen  leaves  \\ith 
their  wooden  shoes;  the  innocent  cake  be- 


JOSSELIN  219 

came  a  veritable  instrument  of  torture.  They 
had  just  reached  a  musty  outhouse, —  the 
temporary  shelter  of  stray  fowls  and  pigs,— 
when,  as  if  moved  by  one  impulse,  they  sat 
down  on  the  deserted  door-step,  with  the  cake 
on  their  knees.  The  rich  perfume  was  so 
penetrating  that  they  rubbed  their  noses  sev 
eral  times  up  and  down  the  paper,  which,  if 
agreeable  and  warming,  was  unsatisfactory. 
There  was  a  neat  white  bo\v  on  top,  on  which 
Aunt  Josselin  had  expended  a  world  of 
thought.  To  give  a  tug  at  this  bow,  leaving 
the  imprint  of  a  grimy  forefinger,  was  the 
work  of  one  reckless  second,  and  before  they 
realized  the:  enormity  of  the  crime  the  paper 
flew  open,  and  before  their  enchanted  vision 
lay  the  cake.  It  was  with  great  difficult}', 
which  necessitated  the  outlining  of  the  fat 
letters  with  their  black  forefingers,  that  they 
spelled  out  the  inscription. 

More  than  indignant,  they  were  hurt.  That 
a  constant  birching  of  their  own  tender  per 
sons  should  result  in  such  a  reward  was  not 
what  they  had  expected  from  Great-aunt  Jos 
selin.  Their  eyes  and  fingers  went  on  a  vain 
tour  of  discovery  over  the  cake  to  see  if  any 
culinary  accident  had  resulted  in  a  kind  of 


220  KITWYK    STOKIKS 

wart  which  could  lie  removed  without  suspi 
cion.  I  heir  disappointed  eyes  reconnoitered 

the  inscription.  I  low  much  su^ar  had  been 
wasted  on  those  lat  letters,  "To  Our  Faithful 
Teacher " ! 

"  I  ( >,  they  tiually  decided,  was  quite  un- 
necessary,  and  it  they  were  to  pick  it  oil  no 
one  would  lie  any  the  wiser.  So  "  Io"  dis- 
appeared,  and  the  twins  licked  their  chops 
and  meditated.  I  he  result  was  that  "I'aith- 
lul  I  eacher  "  \\'as  decided  to  he  hilly  as  con 
vincing  as  "Our  kaithtul  I  eacher."  "Our" 
disappeared.  They  contemplated  the  vacant 
space,  and  sucked  their  lingers,  and  agreed 
that  "  Faithful  "  was  superfluous  ;  lor  it 
"Teacher  "was  left,  the  "  Faithful"  could  be 
readily  understood:  besides,  the  pirate  did  n't 
deserve  it.  So  they  picked  oil  the  "  kaithtul"; 
1ml  \vhen  they  stood  lace  to  lace  with  the 

lollely     "    I  eacher,"    It     looked     so    lopsided     and 

forlorn,  on   one   side  ol   the  take,  that   a  tern 

Me    leal'    sel/ed     them.         Il    llll^ht     lie    better    to 

eat  oil  the  ••  leather,"  and  to  consider  the 
cake  as  a  rich  but  unornamented  dish.  And 
this  they  did,  but  with  misgiving's. 

In  the  mean  time  the  white  paper  had  been 
scuffled  about  under  their  feet.  I  hey  picked 


JOSSKLIX  221 

it  up,  and  wrapped  it  about  the  cake  as  well 
as  they  could,  and  tied  the  dirty  ribbon  in  a 
hard  knot.  Then  they  hoped  for  the  best, 
what  with  the  day's  growing  dim,  the  pirate's 
eyesight  failing,  and  the  joyful  (-motions  pre 
sumably  active  in  his  bosom  because  of  the 
day. 

The;  pirate  had  made;  mighty  preparations 
as  the\'  crept  meekly  in.  A  smell  of  coffee 
issued  from  the  bedroom,  the,  door  of  which 
was  garlanded  with  evergreen,  as  it  the;  pirate, 
whose  work  it  was,  was  very  glael  that  he;  had 
been  born.  In  the  other  room  a  table  was 
pre-pareel  for  gifts,  to  which  the  twins  added 
the;  cake,  but  placeel  it  modestly  in  the  back- 
ground.  Then  the;  pirate  appeared,  looking 
so  smiling  and  benevolent  that  they  were 
filled  with  remorse,  which  was  further  in- 
creaseel  as  he  Pfenerouslv  helped,  the  eisdit 

o  J  L  o 

geographical  sufferers  to  the  most  delicious 
coffee;  and  cre;am,  slabs  of  raisin-bread,  and 
apple-jam,  thick  anel  gold-brown. 

The  twins  baske;el  in  his  smiles;  the  evil 
day  seemed  far  off.  "  Now,"  tin;  pirate;  said 
at  last — "  no\v  I  will  sec  what  your  honored 
pare:nts  have  so  unexpectedly  bestowed  on 
me'.  It  is  not  so  much  the-  gift  as  the;  spirit." 


222  KITYVYK    STOK1KS 

The  twins  were  in  turn  summoned  out  ot  ;i 
dark  corner,  when-  they  had  taken  refuse  un 
der  the  pirate's  clarinet,  when  the  fatal  cake 
was  reached.  1  he  unsuspecting  pirate  in 
vited  them  to  approach,  and  they  could  have 
howled  with  remorse  as  he  patted  their  heads. 
Twilight  was  tailing,  and  his  eyesight  had 
been  sharper,  but  lie  was  evidently  stai^ered 
by  the  eccentric  appearance  ot  the  offering, 
lie  couched,  raised  his  eyebrows,  hut,  admit 
tiiiL;  that  it  was  not  the  without  but  the  within, 
attacked  the  ribbon  with  renewed  confidence. 
Then  the  pirate  tell  hack  as  it"  he  had  been 
shot,  until,  as  it  doubting  his  own  eyesight,  he 
planted  his  spectacles  more  firmly  on  the  end 
ot  his  nose,  and  took  one  lon^\  comprehensive 
look:  a  surface  plowed  through  by  grooves 
to  which  still  clun^"  ra^'cd  bits  of  su^ar,  the 
whole  proclaiming  the  sentiment  "  I<»  (  )ur 
I'aithful  I  eacher,"  not  by  what  was  there,  but 
by  what  was  not. 

I  hen  it  was  that  the  benevolence  faded  out 
of  the  pirate's  horn  spectacles  as  he  lowered 
them  upon  the  culprits,  and  then  it  was  that 
their  innocent  confidence  in  human  benevo 
lence  was  indefinitely  shattered.  \\  ith  a  pro 
phetic  instinct  of  woe  they  fled,  pursued- 


JOSSKLIN  223 

such  was  their  bad  conscience  —  by  a  pirate 
of  abnormal  proportions,  who  attempted  their 
destruction  by  hurling  at  them  a  gigantic  cake 
on  which  the  fatal  inscription  "To  Our  Faith 
ful  Teacher  "  burned  in  letters  of  fire. 


[V 

AUNT  JOSSKLIX  sat  at  the  window  that  af 
ternoon,  and  watched  in  vain  for  the  twins. 
Twilight  came,  but  not  a  sign  of  them.  Sud 
denly  the  bell  gave  a  spasmodic  peal,  and  she 
opened  the  door.  She  stood  transfixed,  for 
she  knew  him  at  once ;  but  it  was  hard  to 
reconstruct  a  young  Duymar  van  Twist  out 
of  this  limping  old  man,  who  carried  in  his 
arms  a  big  crumpled  package  that  looked 
strangely  familiar.  Her  cheeks  flushed  as 
she  stared  first  at  him  and  then  at  his  fatal 
burden. 

"My  God,  Josselin  !  "  and  he  sank  on  the 
wooden  settle  outside ;  and  though  he  had 
not  thought  of  her  for  twenty-five  years,  he 
bowed  his  head  over  the  ruined  cake  and 
sobbed. 

"  I  )uymar  !  " 

But  at  the  touch  of  her  hand  he  leaped  to 


224  KITYVYK    ST()RI!-:S 

his  led.  and  the  cake,  whose  destinv  \\  as 
woe,  tell  between  them  with  an  awful  thud; 
and  without  a  word  Duymar  limped  down  the 
mill  steps.  I  hen  Aunt  Josselin  picked  up 
the  familiar  package,  and  sank  on  the  settle 
as  she  contemplated  the  wreck  :  and  (here  she 
sat  and  cried  until  "To  (  >ur  kaithtul  1  eacher" 
was  <  uithned  in  tears. 

As  tor  the  two  culprits,  they  emerged  from 
the  mill-cap,  where  they  had  taken  refuse, 
and  crept  past  Aunt  [osselin's  door,  and  saw 
her  reading  by  the  hidu  ot  a  candle,  and  the 
sacred  chest  ol  drawers  was  open,  and  it  was 
flooded  by  a  pile  ol  old,  old  love  letters,  the 
letters  Duymar  had  sent  back  thirty-live  years 

before. 

I  i    was  the  holy  eve  of  St.   Nicholas. 

'1  hen-  was  a  threatening  ol  snow  in  the  low 

December    sky,  and  the   wind  cut   like   a  lash 

as    it    swept    over  the   Iroxen   meadows.      '1  he 

very    ni-ht    to    croud    about    the    tire    and    in 

whispers    to    tell     blood-curdling    tales,     until 

through    the    moaning    ol    the    wind    could    be 

heard  a  ediostly  tread  down   the  dim   corridor 

-St.   Nicholas  himself,  \\ith  a  deep,  celestial 

voice   (singularly    familiar)   and    supernatural 


JOSSKLIN  225 

information  about  the  most  trifling  misdeeds. 
Then,  children,  for  a  good  conscience  ! 

Kitwyk  was  ready  for  St.  Nicholas,  and 
what  scrubbing  and  polishing  could  do  had 
been  done,  and  early  lights  were  beginning 
to  twinkle  in  the  windows.  The  wings  of  the 
windmill  hung  black  and  still,  and  in  (ireat- 
aunt  Josselin's  room  —  according  to  immemo 
rial  custom  —  the  twins  were  imprisoned  to 
keep  them  out  of  mischief.  But  for  the  first 
time  in  seven  checkered  years  a  blight  had 
fallen  on  them,  and  they  were  so  subdued 
that  Aunt  fosselin  tried  in  vain  to  revive 
their  drooping  spirits  with  barley-candy,  quite 
unconscious  how  the)'  clutched  each  other  lor 
secret  support  whenever  she  opened  her  chest 
of  drawers.  It  St.  Nicholas  knew  every 
thing, —  as  the  twins  never  doubted, —  they 
had  reason  enough  for  forebodings. 

In  the  village  all  work  had  ceased,  only  out 
of  Mynheer  Veenix's  shop  there  streamed  the 
delicious  aroma  of  baking,  and  customers  still 
shuffled  through  the  withered  chestnut  leaves, 
piled  high  to  the  door,  to  fetch  the  afternoon 
rusks;  and  so  it  happened  that  the  pirate 
found  himself  standing  behind  the  cook  from 
the  mill. 


226  KIIAYYK    STORIES 

1  !(,-  took  his  pared,  ami  trudged  home,  put 
the  rusks  on  the  table,  ami  stirred  the  peat 
lire.  It  was  too  early  to  h^ht  the  lamp,  ami 
the  tea-kettle  was  not  yet  boiling,  so  he  took 
Ins  clarinet  ami  piped  up  a  lnt,  though  his 
heart  was  heavy,  so  old  he  fell  and  forsaken. 
Old  and  forsaken,  and  it  was  the  eve  ot  St. 
Nicholas!  \\  ith  a  ^roan  he  tiling  the  clarinet 
on  the  table,  so  that  the  rusks  fell  out  of  their 
stilt,  meaner  wrapping.  '1  here  he  sat,  ami 
stared  before  him.  when  slowly  three  words 
seemed  to  lift  themselves  out  of  the  paper 
M\nheer  Veenix  had  utili/ed  in  his  com 
merce.  1  hey  seemed  to  leap  out  of  the  yel 
low  pa^'e,  and  to  clutch  at  his  heart:  "My 
darling  I  )uymar  —  ' 

"My  ( iod  !  '  and  he  grasped  it,  "what  is 
this?" 

And  the  small  yellow  sheet  was  one  of 
the  old  love-letters  he  had  sent  back  to  jos- 
selin,  and  his  eyes  were  so  dim  with  tears 
that  it  was  lon^"  before  he  could  read.  15  y 
the  last  flicker  of  daylight  he  strained  his 
eyes  across  the  yellow  pa^'e,  and  at  last,  with 
a  sob,  he  buried  his  face  against  the  words, 
as  if  they  could  make'  him  forget  life  and  its 
sorrows. 


JOSSELIN  227 

Suddenly  he  remembered  that  the  old  let 
ter  had  been  wrapped  about  his  rusks. 

"  My  God,  I  must  know  !  "  and  he  tore  out 
of  the  house  without  hat  or  cane,  and  he 
never  paused  until  he  shot  into  the  Kit\vyk 
shop,  and  there,  he  fell  back,  for,  before  the 
counter,  with  just  such  another  sheet  in  her 
hand,  stood  Josselin. 

Paper,  Mynheer  Yeenix  was  explaining  to 
her,  was  a  rare  and  precious  article  which 
he  purchased,  when  offered,  at  a  penny  a 
pound. 

"  I  hit  these  are  my  letters,  and  I  must 
know  where  you  ""ot  them  !  "  and  there  was 

J  o 

an  excited  flush   on  her  old  cheeks.      "  They 
were  wrapped  about  my  rusks." 

"  May  I  see,  Juffrouw  van  Geldern  ?  " 
But  she  waved  him  off,  and  her  eyes  filled 
with  tears  as  she  thought  how  all  the  rusks 
of  Kitwyk  had  been  wrapped  in  her  old  love- 
letters  ;  and  just  then  the  door  burst  open, 
and  there  stood  Duymar  with  a  letter  in  his 
hand  which  she  had  written  him  thirty-five 
years  before.  She  recognized  it  at  once  ;  and 
with  a  sense  of  grief  and  shame,  as  if  the  love 
and  the  letter  were  of  yesterday,  she  sank  on 
a  keg  of  brown  sugar  and  hid  her  face  in  her 
hands. 


228  KITWYK    STORIKS 

lie  came  straight  toward  her. 

"  (ossclin,  this  letter --it  was  wrapped 
about  my  rusks  —  did  you  care  so  little  — 

The  look  she  ^ave  him  ! 

She  would  have  been  out  of  the  shop  it 
something  oi  the  old  and  impetuous  I  hiymar 
van  Twist  had  not  returned,  and  he  barred 
her  way. 

"  Mynheer  \  eenix,"  he  said  sternly,  "where 
did  you  i;et  these  letters?" 

Mynheer  \  eenix's  answer  had  the  rin^  of 
conscious  rectitude. 

"  1  he  paper  was  sold  to  me  by  the  twins. 
\\h<>  reinvested  the  proceeds  in  barley-candy. 
I  can  hardly  say  that  it  was  worth  a  [jenny  a 


[osselin  lied  into  the  street,  the  fatal  letter 
still  in  her  hand.  She  had  been  lighter  on 
her  teet,  and  Duymar  overtook  her. 

"  Josselin  !  I  le  too  had  been  younger, 
and  he  was  out  oi  breath. 

The  wind  crackled  the  chestnut  branches, 
and  blew  across  his  bare  head,  and  he  shiv 
ered.  She  stood  still,  the  tears  rolling  down 
her  old  cheeks. 

"  [osselin,"  and  he  stretched  out  his  hand, 
"  :/ive  me  that  letter.  It  will  comiort  me 


JOSSELIN  229 

when  I  am  lonely,  for  then  I  shall  remember 
that  once  you  did  love  me,  you  dear,  splendid 
woman." 

Great-aunt  Josselin  spoke  very  softly. 
"And  do  you  still  care,  Duymar?" 

"  I  care?     ()  Josselin!    Give  me  the  letter." 

"There  is  no  need,  Duymar.  Why  read  in 
those  old  letters  what  you  shall  read  in  my 
life  day  by  day,  God  willing?" 

The  tears  fell  down  her  cheeks,  though  she 
smiled. 

"  I  must  begin  to  take  care  of  you,  dear. 
Go  home  and  fetch  your  coat  and  hat,  and 
come  to  the  mill.  The;  children  arc;  waiting, 
for  to-night  is  St.  Nicholas.  You  will  not 
leave  me?  Then  we  must  <_fo  together." 

o>  <:> 

AND  so  it  was  really  St.  Nicholas,  modestly 
aided  by  the  twins,  who  brought  back  her  old 
lover  to  Great-aunt  Josselin.  As  for  the  two 
culprits,  she  just  took  them  in  her  arms  and 
kissed  their  round,  unworthy  cheeks,  and  her 
eyes  were;  lull  ot  tears  —  happy  tears. 

O  tender  and  faithful  Josselin  ! 


A    TRAGEDY    OF    KITWYK 

BKYOXD  the  fields  and  meadows,  ami  the 
IOIIL;"  lane  ot  melancholy,  wind-swept  pop 
lars,  lay  the  peat-fields,  dreary  stretches  ot 
stubbly  ground,  overgrown,  where  it  was  not 
cut,  exposing  the  black,  oo/y  clay,  by  rank 
weeds  and  grasses  and  heath.  I  he  monot 
onous  dead  level  was  broken  only  by  low 
black  mounds  or  ricks,  peat  piled  to  dry  in 
the  sun  and  air,  that  looked  in  the  tailing 
twilight  like  a  forgotten  graveyard. 

A  flock  of  crows  flew  heavily  across  the 
low,  L^'ray  sky,  and  the  I<>HL;  lane  ot  poplars 
that  led  to  I  en  Brink  swayed  in  unison  to  a 
rising  bree/e.  (  )n  the  other  side  the  village 
lay  huddled  about  the  church,  which  lilted  its 
ancient  cross  as  if  to  exorcise  the  spirits  ot 
the  desolate  fields;  and  in  direct  line  ot  the 
cross,  and  as  it  sinking  under  its  displeasure, 
Stood  a  ruined  cottage  on  the  ed^'e  of  the 

plain,    outcast    from    the    habitations   of    men, 

2J.J 


A    TRAGEDY    OF    KITWYK  231 

and  in  it  dwelt  two  lonely  spirits,  and  one  was 
an  old  woman,  and  the  other  was  her  son. 
At  twilight  they  trudged  home,  their  backs 
bent  under  heavy  loads,  and  the  displeasure 
of  the  world  was  upon  them. 

Once  in  the  annals  of  Kitwyk  a  woman  fell. 
There  was  not  much  to  say  for  her  except 
that  she  was  faithful,  for  she  never  betrayed  the 
name  of  the  man.  Kitwyk  was  terribly  agi 
tated,  for  it  felt  itself  too  weak  to  cope  with  a 
foundling-.  So  a  kind  of  lugubrious  prenatal 
celebrity  attached  itself  to  the  son  of  the 
woman,  and  such  was  the  agitation  of  the 
town-council  that  the  object  of  dispute  was 
temporarily  forgotten,  so  that  Kitwyk  was  re 
joiced  to  hear  that  the  woman  had  disap 
peared,  and  was  just  congratulating  itself  at 
this  simple  solution  of  its  perplexities,  when 
one  day,  toward  sunset,  she  reappeared,  her 
child  in  her  arms,  and  there!  was  a  light  in 
her  patient  eyes  stronger  than  the  Burgo 
master,  the  town-council,  and  charity. 

Kitwyk  resigned  itself  to  the  inevitable, 
though  it  reserved  the-  right  to  assign  her  an 
abiding-place,  and,  as  a  bad  example  and  an 
immoral  pauper,  she  was  relegated  to  a  hall- 
ruined  cottage  on  the  edge  of  the  peat-field. 


232  KITVYYK    STOKIKS 

Toward  evening  the  windows  caught  the 
glow  of  the  sunset,  but  at  night  it  lay  for 
saken  and  dreary,  with  the  littul  flames  ol  the 
peat  tire  glowing  through  the  cracked  panes 
across  the  dull  landscape.  The  woman  sat 
by  the  hearth  and  rocked  her  baby  on  her 
breast,  and  when  the  baby  gave  a  grip  to  her 
finger  in  his  sleep,  tor  he  was  a  mighty  fel 
low,  then  she  laid  her  cheek  against  the 
flaxen  head  and  sobbed  for  joy,  and  quite  for 
got  that  she  was  an  outcast. 

I'or  a  long  time  the  baby  was  nameless. 
One  Sunday  she  went  to  church.  It  was  a 
summer  morning,  and  the  very  peat-fields, 
with  a  sense  of  shame,  had  donned  a  little 
shabby  green  over  the  black  earth. 

The  wooden  pews  for  respectable  sinners 
had  backs,  some  of  the  elect  had  cushions,— 
Mevrouw  van  Loo  had  a  toot  stool,  —  but  for 
the  despised  there  was  reserved  an  ignomin 
ious  bench  in  a  dratty  corner  in  direct  hue 
of  the  pulpit,  so  that  the  Mominie  could  hurl 
his  invectives  at  a  proper  and  uncomplaining 
object. 

This  morning  the  old  I  )ominie  preached  a 
discourse  on  I  >a\  id  and  Goliath,  and  the  de 
spised  one  on  the  bench  folded  her  hands,  and 


A    TRAGEDY    OF    KITWYK  233 

a  rapt  smile  crept  over  her  face,  and  it  was 
still  there  as  she  scudded  home.  She  had 
found  a  name  at  last,  the  only  perplexity  was 
which  one — David  or  Goliath?  The  boy 
gave  promise  of  being'  a  mighty  man  some 
day  ;  Goliath  seemed  a  tit  name,  but  then  she 
remembered  with  a  pang  that  the  great  Go 
liath  had  been  slain  by  the  little  David.  She 
lifted  the  door-latch  in  dire  perplexity.  At 
si<du  of  her  he  stretched  out  his  arms.  I  lad 

O 

not  the  Dominie  said  that  the  young  David 
was  beautiful  and  ruddy,  and  that  God  had 
loved  him  and  helped  him  to  kill  the  giant  ? 

"My  David,  my  David,"  and  she  took  him 
in  her  arms  and  cried  over  him,  because  she 
had  given  him  the  only  thing  she  had  to  give 
—  a  name;  and  so,  having  entered  on  his  in 
heritance,  David  proceeded  to  grow  to  man's 
estate. 

n 

AND  David's  mother  toiled  early  and  late 
like  the  men,  and  for  her  child's  sake  she 
longed  not  to  be  despised.  Hut  one  day  an 
edict  went  forth  from  the  town-council:  Da 
vid,  son  of  the  unwedded  Denys,  must  go  to 
school,  or  he  would  prove  a  disgrace  to  Kitwyk. 


234  KIT\VYK    STORIKS 

\Yhen  Denys  closed  the  door  on  the  mes 
senger  of  e\'il,  she  sank  on  the  settle  beside 
the  hearth.  'I  hen,  out  of  the  corner  in  which 
he  had  hidden  when  his  doom  was  pronounced, 
lie  crept  and  buried  his  curly  head  in  his  mo 
ther's  lap,  and  tor  the  first  time'  in  her  lite 
she  was  unmindful  of  him  in  this  new  and 
in'eat  trouble. 

"  Xow  he  will  learn  to  despise  me,"  she 
thought.  "  ( iod  have  mercy! 

Xot  till  years  after  did  she  reali/e  that  (iod 
had  answered  her  prayer.  1  le  never  learned 
to  despise  her;  for,  though  his  youn^  body 
was  strong,  there  was  that  lacking  in  his  poor 
mind  \vhichwould  make  him  comprehend  that 
his  mother  was  an  outcast  and  that  he  had  no 
name.  And  so  the  years  passed  on. 

One  ni^ht  the  two  sat  before  the  peat  lire, 
she  binding  brooms,  he  staring  intently  at  the 
flames.  The  snow  was  falling,  and  blew  in 
trusts  against  the  windows,  through  which 
the  fire  -li^'ht  stru^'ided  and  lay  in  lurid 
patches  across  the  snow. 

Suddenly  he  looked  up  from  the  flames. 
"Mother."  he  said,  "would  you  be  happier 
if  your  name-  were  written  in  the  church 
register  ?  " 


A    TRAGEDY    OF    KITWYK  235 

Her  hands  fell  in  her  lap,  and  she  stared  at 
him  and  held  her  breath. 

"  You  would  be  happier,  would  you  not, 
mother  ?  "  he  persisted. 

With  a  cry  she  hid  her  face  from  her  son. 
"You  do  not  understand,  David;  you  do  not 
understand." 

"If  all  good  women's  names  are  written  in 
the  church  register,  why  is  not  yours  ?  " 

"David,  David!" 

She  dragged  herself  to  him  and  hid  her 
poor  face  on  his  knee,  and  he  smoothed  her 
hair  with  his  rough  hand  and  sank  into  si 
lence  ;  and  the  storm  shook  the  frail  house, 
and  a  cry  went  up  from  the  world  as  il  souls 
in  anguish  were  lashed  across  space  by  the 
bitter  winter  gale. 

in 

Hi;  was  still  a  child  to  Denys  when  he  was 
in  reality  a  big,  awkward  man,  his  broad  back 
bent  by  toil,  and  with  a  shuffling  gait  and 
long,  strong  arms.  lie  had  a  slo\v  mind  and 
only  one  idea,  but  that  bore  him  company  as 
he  dug  peat,  it  followed  him  along  tin;  canal 
towing  the  canal-boats,  it  made:  him  forget 
cold,  hunger,  and  weariness.  Sometimes  he 


23')  KITWYK    STOKIKS 

sat  for  hours  brooding.  ( )nce —  l>y  that  time 
the  idea  seemed  \-ery  familiar  —  he  laughed 
out  loud,  tint  lirst  time  since  he  was  a  child. 
"David,  I  )avid,  my  son!  '  and  his  mother 
grasped  Ins  shoulder,  and  she  was  white  and 
trembling. 

"  (  )1  what  are  you  afraid,  mother?" 
She  sank  on  a  stool  and  hid  her  face,  and 
he  looked  at  her  in  dismay.  For  a  moment 
he  wanted  to  comfort  her  and  tell  her  about 
his  idea,  but  betore  he  could  put  it  into  slow 
words  she  had  gone  about  her  work. 

Tin;  time  came  when  the  pent-up  wrath  of 
the  town-council  broke  iorth.  That  a  person, 
so  to  speak,  of  light  character  should  be  per 
mitted  to  breathe  the  air  of  kitwyk,  and  never 
be  punished  for  her  sin,  presented  itself  with 
renewed  vigor.  I  he  cottage  on  the  peat 
field  was  acknowledged  to  be  a  blot  on  the 
immaculate  landscape.  (  )ne  day  the  woman 
I  )enys  was  called  before  the  worshipful  town- 
council.  1  he  door  was  timidly  opened,  and 
she  stood  on  the  threshold.  She  wiped  her 
face  on  her  old  blue  apron  as  an  act  of  humil 
ity,  for  the  sight  that  met  her  eyes  was  very 
impressive.  Seven  awful  gentlemen  with  red 


A    TRAGEDY    OF    KITWYK  237 

faces  sat  about  a  green  baize  table,  and,  as 
if  with  one  accord,  they  stared  at  her.  She 
knew  each  one  individually,  had  often  sold 
them  brooms  without  quailing,  but  collec 
tively  they  were  very  terrible.  And,  suddenly, 
as  she  stood  before  them,  her  back  bent  and 
her  face  seamed  by  wrinkles,  a  consciousness 
of  her  old  sin,  which  was  not  always  in  her 
thoughts,  came  to  her,  and  her  eyes,  looking 
restlessly  about,  fell  before  theirs.  She  wiped 
her  hands  on  her  apron,  and  shuffled  about 
in  her  wooden  shoes.  It  was  Mynheer  van 
Steen  who,  in  the  cause  of  virtue,  broke  the 
news  to  her — the  house  on  the  peat-field 
was  to  be  torn  down. 

She  did  not  seem  to  comprehend,  for  she 
glanced  hesitatingly  from  one  to  the  other, 

o  «>    J 

lingering  a  moment  longer  on  the  big,  dull 
face  of  the  Burgomaster — it  was  old  Lucas 
van  der  Yelde,  who  was  staring  with  unwink 
ing  intcntness  through  the  diamond-shaped 
panes  at  the  town-pump. 

With  an  unreasonableness  characteristic  of 
her,  she  said  nothing;  so  it  was  further  an 
nounced  to  her  that,  as  there  was  no  other 
place  for  her  in  Kitwyk,  she  must  go.  There 
was  an  asylum  for  old  women  in  Sippken 


238  KITWYK    STOKIKS 

open  to  her,  while  I  )avicl,  her  son,  being  an 
able-bodied  man,  could  earn  his  living  on  any 

fishing-smack. — \Vhat  \vouKl  become  of  I  )a\id 
if  she.  should  die?  and  supposing  1  hivid  were 
to  die  ? 

I'or  the  first  time  the  unreasonable  creature 
broke  the  silence-.  She  began  to  moan,  and 
so  distracted  the  town-council  that  she  was 
graciously  permitted  to  withdraw  ;  and  Kit- 
wyk  felt  that  it  had  been  a  champion  of 
morality. 

\\hen  1  )avid  came  home  that  night  there 
was  no  light  in  the  cottage  window,  nor  on 
the-  hearth  as  he  raised  the  latch  and  stum 
bled  against  something".  It  was  his  mother. 
lie1  raised  her  in  his  strong  arms,  and  stroked 
her  hands,  and  called  her  softly  ;  and  at  last 
she  opened  her  eyes,  and,  at  the  rare  smile 
in  his  dull  fact',  she  drew  him  toward  her  as 
if  he  were  a  child  again. 

"\\ait,  mother,"  and  he  stroked  her  cheek; 
"you  shall  be  happy  yet,  I  promise  you — I, 
I  )avid,  your  son."  And,  straightening  his 
bent  back  with  a  new  air  of  importance,  he 
shuttled  out  of  the  house. 


A    TRAGEDY    OF    K1TWYK  239 

IV 

Ax  hour  after,  two  men  struggled  and 
scuffled  down  the  forsaken  road.  One  had 
his  hands  tied  behind  his  back,  a  bandana 
handkerchief  gagged  his  mouth,  and  his 
cocked  hat  was  jammed  over  his  eyes  —  and 
David,  the  son  of  the  woman,  held  him  in  a 
grip  of  steel. 

"  '  \Yrite  her  name  in  the  book,'  said  I. 
'  She  is  n't  married,'  say  you.  Why,  if  that  's 
all  to  make  her  happy,  she  shall  have  the 
richest  and  greatest  husband  in  all  Kitwyk 
—  and  that  's  you  !  "  and  David  dragged  his 
victim  after. 

A  dense  mist  rose  from  the  black  marsh, 
and  the  light  from  the  cottage  fell  on  it  in 
long,  dull  rays.  David  threw  open  the  door, 
and  with  a  deft  turn  of  his  right  arm  flung 
the  outraged  Burgomaster  to  the  feet  of  the 
old  woman,  and  there  he  lay,  an  inert,  groan 
ing  mass ;  and  then  David  laughed  for  the 
second  time  in  his  life. 

"  If  you  must  have:  a  husband,  here  is  one," 
he  shouted  in  triumph.  "  I  said  I  would 
make  you  happy." 

"  David -- David,  my  son,  what  have  you 
done  ?  " 


240  KITWYK    STOKIKS 

\\  ith  trembling  h;inds  the  woman  helped 
the  chief  magistrate  of  Kit\vyk  to  rise,  and 
so,  alter  twenty-live  years,  her  hand  touched 
his  a^'ain.  I  le  shrank  hack  from  her. 

"  \  on  shall  pay  tor  this,  and  so  shall  that 
brute,  your  son!  '  and  his  eyes  glared  like  a 
wild  beast's,  and  the  veins  on  his  forehead 
stood  out  like  whip-cords.  I  here  was  a  sud 
den  silence,  and  then  his  shifty,  scowling  i^a/e 
met  hers.  Xot  a  word  was  said,  but  a  ediastly 
terror  tilled  his  eyes.  lie  looked  a  moment, 
with  a  kind  ot  horrified  scrutiny,  at  the  face 
ot  I  )avid,  who  stared  at  him  witli  a  vacant 
smile  ;  and  then  he  stai^ered  out  ot  the 
house,  and  I  hivid's  mother  stood  in  her 
place  like  an  linage  of  stone. 

"Mother,"  said  I  )a\  id,  "he  would  have 
made  a  ^ood  husband.  I  told  him  he  was 
wanted,  and  lie  came  willingly  enough  until 
he  knew  where.  Then  I  tied  his  hands,  for 
fear  of  losing  him." 

\\hen  I  )enys  at  last  roused  herself  she  was 
alone. 

KirwvK  depended  tor  its  measurements  of 
time  on  neither  clocks  nor  sun-dials,  but  on 
old  Kobus,  the  ni: ij'ht- watchman,  who  in  turn 


A   TRAGEDY    OF    KITWYK  241 

depended  on  the  rooster  of  Jonkheer  van 
Loo.  This  methodical  fowl  was  one  of  a 
breed  that  crowed  at  five  o'clock  every  morn 
ing,  and  for  thirty  years  a  Van  Loo  rooster 
had  roused  old  Kobus  stumping-  along  and 
calling  the  hours  in  a  nasal  sing-song,  a 
good,  solid  blast  on  his  horn  being  forbidden 
except  in  case  of  dire  necessity  —  the  last 
occurring  three  hundred  years  before,  when 
a  ghostly  posse  of  Spanish  troopers  clattered 
over  the  cobblestones  toward  the  castle  of 
Count  Egmont. 

Never  yet  had  a  Van  Loo  rooster  crowed 
at  any  other  time  but  as  Kobus  in  his  nightly 
perambulations  reached  the  outskirts  of  Kit- 
wyk,  where  lay  the  peat-fields  under  a  black 
sky  shot  with  gray  at  the  sullen  breaking  of 
dawn.  The;  blameless  burghers  of  Kitwyk 
slept,  and  Kobus  stumped  along  like  a  gigan 
tic  cabbage  under  his  nine  capes,  dozing 
gently,  such  was  his  skill,  and  his  lantern 
whacking  his  shins.  A  black  night,  with  a 
rising  breeze  that  lashed  the  ragged  poplars 
leading  to  Ten  Brink.  Suddenly,  in  the  mid 
night  silence;,  acock  crowed  —  an  inexperienced 
young  fowl  who  mistook  a  glare  for  daybreak. 
It  was  a  mistaken,  melancholy  note,  but  it 


242  KITWVK    STOKIKS 

pierced  through  Kolms's  methodical  dreams 
and  \vokc  him  to  the  one  chance  of  his  lite. 

I  lis  lantern  dropped  with  a  crash,  his  knees 
wobbled,  and  the  blast  he  blew  was  but  a  fee 
ble  one  to  rouse  the  old  echoes  asleep  since 
that  ancient  Spanish  raid. 

"  I' ire  !  I'ire  !  "  and  he  stumbled  across  the 
market-place  and  thumped  frantically  against 
the  Burgomaster's  front  door,  and  Kitwyk 
leaped  out  ot  bed,  as  his  Honor,  with  his 
cocked  hat  crowning  his  ni^ht-cap, —  he  still 
had  so  much  presence  ot  mind, —  tore  open 
the  window.  All  Kitwyk  shrieked  tor  infor 
mation,  and  that  ni^ht  were  displayed  many 
strange  fashions  in  ni^ht-caps. 

I'i'om  the  distant  peat-fields  the  forked 
flames  and  the  rolling  smoke  swirled  and 
whirled  a  blood-red  path  to  the  sky,  and  in 
the  midst  ot  the  flames  stood  one  ungainly 
figure,  its  fantastic  shadow  flun^  across  the 
stubble  and  the  ricks  as  the  wind  caught  the 
bla/.e. 

Huh!  but  old  parchment  and  book-covers 
burn  gloriously!  Armed  with  a  lon^"  pole, 
I  )a\  id,  the  son  ot  the  unwedded  I  )enys,  with 
a  hmi^e  of  his  hu^'e  shoulder,  L^ave  a  shove  to 
such  venerable  volumes  as  declined  to  burn. 


A   TRAGEDY    OF    KITWVK  243 

When  they  burst  into  flame,  three  hundred 
years  of  old  church  registers,  he  roared  with 
joy.  Now  there  was  no  woman  in  Kitwyk 
better  than  his  mother!  And  he  hugged  him 
self  as  he  thought  of  her  great  joy. 

"Mother!    Mother!" 

She  was  already  flying  across  the  stubbly 
lields,  her  gray  hair  lashing  her  face. 

"  See,  mother,  the  church  books  in  which 
they  would  not  put  your  name  !  " 

She  flung  herself  on  her  knees  and  tore  at 
the  blazing  pile.  He  stood  staring  stupidly 
at  her,  his  mouth  open. 

"My  God!  My  God!"  She  fell  back, 
beaten  by  the  flames  and  smoke. 

Suddenly  out  ol  the  night  the  church  bells 
rang  a  wild  alarm,  and  down  the  highway 
there  sounded  the  hurry  and  clatter  and 
tramping  of  feet.  Armed  with  blunderbusses, 
pitchforks,  and  rusty  swords,  the  crowd  bore 
down  on  them,  in  their  midst  the  Burgomas 
ter,  his  dressing-gown  flapping  about  his  legs, 
and  his  face,  under  his  night-cap  and  cocked 
hat,  ghastly  white.  As  one  stricken  to  the 
soul,  I)enys  cowered  before  him,  her  singed 
hair  hanging  about  her  face,  her  burned  hands 
huddled  in  the  rags  oi  her  dress.  "  lie  loves 


244  KITWYK    STOR1KS 

me,"  slu,-  murmured,  "  ami  he  does  not  under 
stand."  Then  she  looked  straight  into  the 
sullen  eyes  of  the  Burgomaster  of  Kitwyk  : 
"  Have  mercy,  lor  he  had  no  lather,"  and  at 
these  words  his  1  lonor  breathed  aain. 


So  there  was,  for  the  first  time  in  the  mem 
ory  oi  its  oldest  inhabitant,  a  criminal  in  Kit 
wyk,  and  the  problem  was  what  to  do  \\ith 
him,  as  the  dungeons  under  the  town-hall 
had,  since  time  immemorial,  been  devoted  to 
storing  winter  potatoes  and  municipal  oil-cans. 
1'or  the  present  the  wretched  culprit  was  im 
mured  in  the  sacrist\-  which  he  had  robbed, 
in  company  with  the  charred  remains  oi  the 
stolen  records.  Kitwyk,  having  regained  its 
mental  balance,  acknowledged  that  his  arrest 
was  a  terrible  blunder,  lor  to  support  a  crimi 
nal  in  idleness  lor  the  greater  part  ot  his  career 
was  felt  to  be  a  dram  on  the  public  treasury. 
I  he  town-council  yearned  enthusiastically  to 
have  him  escape;,  and  they  <rnve  him  every 
opportunity;  but,  with  an  unreasonableness 
probably  inherited  from  his  mother,  he  de 
clined.  'I  here  beillLJ'  nothing  <'lse  to  do,  I  );i- 


A   TRAGEDY    OF    KITWYK  245 

vid  was  summoned  before  the  town-council  to 
hear  his  doom,  to  which  he  listened  with  a 
vacant  smile. 

Because  of  his  </reat  crime,  and  because  of 

o  } 

the  parental  benevolence  of  the  town-council, 
he  was  to  be  bound  out  as  a  sailor,  on  the 
merchantman  Hesperus,  to  sail  for  Java  in  a 
week.  David  received  his  sentence  still 
smiling"  vacantly,  indifferent  even  to  the 
further  benevolence  of  Kitwyk  when  it  was 
added  that  he  might  now  go  home  to  his 
mother  to  help  her  cut  peat  for  the  winter, 
as  there  was  no  knowing  when  he  would 
come  back. 

So  the  one  criminal  of  Kitwyk  shuffled 
home;,  and  when  his  old  mother  heard  his 
doom  she  sank  on  a  bench  in  a  terrible 
tremble  that  never  left  her  from  that  day 
forth,  and  the  hand  of  God  was  indeed  heavy 
upon  them. 

Autumn  passed,  and  winter  came:  with  snow 
and  ice  and  storm,  and  the  stubble  of  the 
fields  lay  in  fro/en  ridges,  and  the:  wind  swept 
across  the  plains. 

Kvery  evening,  after  twilight,  an  old  bent 
woman  crept  down  the  forsaken  road,  peering 
about  in  wistful  search  of  one  who  would 


246  KITWYK    STORIKS 

never  conic  a^ain,  tor  divine  justice  was  with 
Kitwyk,  and  the  burden  was  at  last  lilted  from 
its  municipal  shoulders.  After  many  months 
a  message  had  reached  the  town-council  that 
I  )avid.  son  ot  the  nnwedded  I  )enys,  had  been 
drowned  ott  the  coast  ot  Java  in  a  sudden 
squall. 

••  (iod's  will  lie  done!"  anel  the  Burgomaster 
blew  a  blast  on  his  bandana  handkerchief, 
and  a  ^reat  relict  was  visible  on  his  features, 
tor  lie  was  nothing  it  not  patriotic.  "Ami  now 
inform  the  woman." 

It  was  evening  and  bitter  cold,  and  the 
winds  blowing  across  the  fields  cut  like 
lashes,  as  an  indignant  messenger  of  sorrow, 
armed  with  a  lantern,  shouldered  his  way 
across  the  stubble  and  thumped  against  the 
door,  and  stood  blowing  hi.-,  tinkers,  waiting. 
As  no  one  came,  he  kicked  it  open. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  letting  me  wait? 
(  id  up!  I  Ye  something  to  tell  you." 

Puit  the  unwedded  I  )enys.  on  whom  the 
hand  of  (  iod  had  lain  so  heavily,  did  not  stir, 
for  she  was  dead,  and  her  dead  cheek  rested 
on  tlie  peat  her  I  )avid  had  cut  and  piled  on 
the  hearth,  on  which  no  tire  had  burned  tor 
weeks;  tor.  beiiv'"  nothing  it  not  unreasonable. 


A   TRAGEDY    OF    KITWYK  247 

she  could  not  destroy  the  last  thing-  his  poor 
faithful  hands  had  touched,  and  so,  rather,  she 
had  died  of  hunger  and  cold,  and  her  face 

o 

was  still  wet  with  tears,  and  her  hand  lay  on 
her  heart  as  if  that  had  been  —  broken. 


A    ROMAXCK    OF    KITXVVK 


ITS  hero  was  only  Jan  Osterhoupt,  the  cob 
bler.  1  le  lived  where  the  road  st  rabies 
into  the  poplar  lane  of  Ten  Brink,  and  as 
he  also  made  the  wooden  shoes  in  which 
Kitwyk  clattered  about,  there  was  always  a 
rait  of  voting  ones  pressing  their  noses 
against  the  din^y  panes  and  clamoring  lor 
the  chips  and  shavings  that  littered  the 
hobbly  clay  floor.  Doubled  up  over  the 
cobbler's  bench  sat  jantjc,  his  sister,  patch 
in^"  old  boots.  She  was  a  little  hump-backed 
creature,  with  eyes  like  patient  stars. 

(  )nly    when    Saskia    lingered    in    the    door 
way  would    they  pause  in   their  work;    and   it 
there   was    no    answering   liidit    in    her   moody 
eyes,  it  was  but   |iist.  tor    (an  Osterhoupt,  her 
lather,  had  done  her  a  LM'eat  wron^-  in   lite  — 
he   had    married    her   mother. 

^  on  see,  once,  when  he  was  youn^'.  he  de 
parted    tmm  the  ways  ot   his   lather,  who   had 


A    ROMANCE    OF    KITWYK  249 

been  the  cobbler  of  Kitwyk  for  fifty  years, 
and  went  into  the  wide  world  to  seek  his 
fortune.  Destiny  took  him  to  l;rance  as  a 
humble  gardener  of  kitchen  fruits,  and  as 
such  the  great  Revolution  overtook  him  as 
he  fastened  a  branch  of  yello\v  apricots  to 
the  wall  of  an  old  chateau  whose  glory  had 
long  departed.  There  was  a  Yicomte  de  la 
Telliere,  a  harmless,  lonely  man,  who  was 
studying  a  butterfly's  wing-  through  a  micro 
scope  when  the  Revolution  stormed  up  the 
rickety  stairs,  and  he  was  arrested.  Mile,  de 
la  Telliere,  his  daughter,  lay  senseless  across 
the  threshold. 

Because  a  spring  of  the  old  state  coach  — 
a  moth-eaten  scarlet-and-gold  structure,  and 
the  only  vehicle  in  the  village  —  was  broken, 
the  prisoners  were  left  in  the  chateau  over 
night,  guarded  by  a  raft  of  dirty  patriots, 
among  whom  was  a  worth)'  young  man  who 
the  day  before  had  fastened  the  apricots  to 
the  garden  wall,  and  who  swore  he  could  be 
trusted.  Then*  was  the  last  of  some;  note 
worthy  wine  in  the  cellar  of  La  Telliere,  and 
it  is  possible  that  in  their  ardor  the  children 
of  the  Republic  drank  too  often  to  the  tri 
umph  of  liberty.  At  all  events,  the  next 


250  KITWYK    STOKIKS 

morning,  when  the  chariot  lumbered  up  from 
the-  smith}-,  M.  le  Vicomte  and  his  daughter, 
and  the  youn^-  man  they  had  so  trusted,  had 
basely  disappeared. 

Then  it  was  that  patriotism  rose  to  a  sub 
lime  height,  and  ottered  a  thousand  francs 
reward  tor  the  arrest  ot  one  (an  (  )sterhoupt, 
accused  of  aiding  in  the  escape  of  two  dan 
gerous  enemies  of  the  Republic.  M.  le  \  i- 
comte's  estate  \\'as  confiscated,  and  the  old 
house  pillaged  and  set  on  tire. 

(jaily  it  burned,  and  the  next  day  nothing 
was  left  but  the  blackened  walls  and  a 
scorched  willow-tree  that  knocked  softly 
against  the  broken  panes.  (  )n  the  crum 
bling  i^arden  wall  the  apricots  still  hun^, 
yellow  as  LM'ld. 

( iod  alone  knows  the  story  of  that  at 
tempted  flight,  but  it  is  certain  that  M.  le 
\icomtc  never  reached  the  friendly  shelter 
where  he  \\  as  to  meet  (an  <  ) st erh<  Hi] it  and 
his  daughter.  Probably  he  was  reco^ni/ed 
and  guillotined  without  ceremony  —  a  com 
mon  occurrence;  and  so  there  wandered  into 
the  world  two  outcasts  —  a  dull,  frightened 
L^ii'l,  with  not  the  brightest  of  wits  after  that 
ni^'ht,  and  a  man  whose  only  worldly  posses- 


A    ROMANCE    OF    K1TWYK  251 

sion  was  the  price  set  on  his  head.  And  Jan 
Osterhoupt,  being  destined  for  great  honor, 
one  day  married  the  daughter  of  M.  le  Vi- 
comte  ;  and  Kitwyk  might  never  have  known 
how,  having  gone  in  search  of  a  fortune,  he 
had  found  it,  if,  years  afterward,  a  shabby, 
sorrowful  man  had  not  shuffled  his  way 
through  the  fallen  leaves  of  Ten  Brink  with 
a  bundle  in  his  arms.  He  paused  at  the 
cobbler's  shop,  his  hand  on  the  rusty  latch  ; 
then  he  lifted  it  slowly,  and  the  sunlight 
straggled  past  him  and  rested  on  two  bent 
figures  within,  —  older,  sadder,  and  poorer. 

"  Father,"  the  man  at  the  door  faltered, 
and  the  cobbler  looked  up,  dazed. 

"Jan — fan!  have  you  come  back  again? 
and  where  is  your  fortune?"  and  old  Adam's 
joints  creaked  as  he  stumbled  to  his  feet  and 
peered  at  the.  wanderer. 

And  Jan  Osterhoupt,  having  seem  the 
world  and  brought  home  his  fortune  in  an 
old  shawl,  turned  away  and  sobbed. 

HALF  an  hour  afterward  Adam  Oster- 
houpt's  bow  legs  were  already  planted  on 
the  sanded  floor  of  \Yilliam  the  Silent,  and 
he  had  piped  out  his  news.  I  lis  best  coat 


252  KITWYK    STORIKS 

was   tiling  over  his   dirty   apron,   and   he   \vas 
out  ot   breath  with  runnmL;".      'I  he  Dur^'omas- 
ter  was   blistering   his   noble  back  at  the  tap 
room    tire;    he   roared  at   the   ancient   man: 

"Close-  the  door,  you  old  tool'  \\ell, 
now,  what  about  your  son  fan?" 

In  all  his  shabby  lite  old  Adam  had  vainly 
pined  tor  consideration,  perhaps  because  he 
contributed  nothing  to  society  but  a  bad 
smell  ot  leather.  Now  was  his  chance. 

"  |an    's     home     with     a     fortune  —  I     said 
he  'd  be!-  —he  's  married  a  countess,  and  — 
here  he   sobbed   because  ot    his  L^reat  joy  and 
pride  — "  and  they  Ye,  set  a  price  on  his  head. 

Kitwyk  was  aghast  with  apprehension.  It 
this  was  not  madness  it  was  anarchy.  'I  here 
was  a  scuttle  backward;  only  the  pirate, 
smoking  a  pipe  in  the  chimney-corner,  was 
unmoved  —  but  he  was  reckless  by  trade,  one 
mi^'ht  say.  In  its  dire  perplexity,  Kitwyk 
turned  to  him  as  the  only  jud^'e  ot  romance, 
and  he  nodded.  I  he  world  was  a  (jlieer 

place  —  as  an  ex-pirate,  he  ou!_dit  to  know; 
so  Kitwyk  emerged,  and  the  Hur^'omaster, 
barricaded  behind  a  hi^h-backed  chair,  asked, 
"  \\  here  IS  the  countess  ?  " 

I  lere  the  weakness  ot  Adam's  case  be- 
traved  itselt. 


A    ROMANCE    OF    KITWYK  253 

"  She  is  dead,"  and  he  was  conscious  that 
his  one  chance  in  life  was  vanishing.  In  his 
despair,  he  ventured  a  little  nearer  to  the 
great  man.  "  But  if  you  please,  your  Wor 
ship,  there  is  a  countess,  only  it  's  a  very 
little  one." 

Now  Kitwyk  was  not  only  human,  but  it 
was  curious  ;  and  so  at  last  his  wildest  dream 
was  fulfilled :  he  sat  in  the  Burgomaster's 
chair,  and  he  might  have  drowned  himself 
in  hot  grog  free  of  expense. 

"To  think,"  he  sobbed  in  his  pride,  "that 
I  should  have  a  son  whose  head  is  worth  a 
thousand  francs  !  "  and  Kitwyk  assented. 

"  Blexem  !  "  cried  the  Burgomaster,  "  such 
an  illustrious  citizen  shall  be  properly  wel 
comed  !  "  and  he  clapped  on  his  cocked  hat, 
and,  with  his  gold-headed  cane  under  one 
arm  and  Adam  under  the  other,  he  led  the 
way,  and  Kitwyk  straggled  after. 

The  sun  was  just  setting,  and  the  wind 
knocked  the  linden  twigs  softly  against  the 
little  window.  The;  door  was  open  for  the 
last  flicker  of  twilight,  and  at  the  cobbler's 
bench,  straining  his  eyes,  sat  a  sorrowful 
man  with  a  crook  in  his  back,  as  if  he  had 
sat  there  forever.  By  the  fire,  in  Jantje's 


254  KITWYK    STORIKS 

arms,  a  baby  stru^led  a  little:  red  head  out 
of  a  raided  shawl,  and  wailed  at  si^'ht  of  tin: 
Burgomaster  —  and  that  was  the  countess. 

1  lis  \\  orship  took  in  the  scene  in  one  com 
prehensive  idare,  and  dropped  Adam's  arm. 

Jan  (  )sterh<nipt  rose  humbly,  his  head  on 
his  breast  —  the  head  worth  a  thousand 
francs. 

1  he  Burgomaster  stared  at  him  from  head 
to  toot  ;  he.  was  inspired. 

"  A  countess  marry  you  !  a  price  set  on 
that!  Indeed,  Jan  Osterhoupt's  head  was 


A  sob  broke  the  awhil  stillness;  but  it  was 
only  old  Adam  who  sobbed,  because  he  had 
lost  his  last  claim  to  consideration  ;  and  he 
stood  in  the  doorway  in  a  da/e,  while:  the 
properly  outraged  magistracy  of  Kitwyk  dis 
appeared  down  the  poplar  lane. 

But  from  that  day  he  was  a  changed  man. 
I  Ie  refused  to  work,  and,  instead,  he  haunted 
the  tap-room  of  \\  illiam  the  Silent,  and 
looked  with  sullen  resentment  at  his  son  fan, 
who  pe^ed  away  at  the  boots  of  Kitwyk  as 
if  no  noble  lady  had  ever  checkered  his  ca 
reer.  But  one  comfort  old  Adam  had  when 
he  died:  he  left  his  resentment,  his  onlv 


A   ROMANCE   OF    KITWYK  255 

legacy,  to  Jan's  girl,  Saskia,  and  her  soul 
was  full  of  bitterness  against  her  father. 

Once  only,  in  the  pain  of  his  heart,  did  Jan 
Osterhoupt  venture  to  boast.  He  was  not 
quite  without  honor,  he  said  wistfully.  There 
was  a  price  set  on  his  head.  Only  give  him 
up  in  France,  and  there  was  a  fortune  waiting. 

And  Saskia,  crouched  in  the  firelight,  looked 
suddenly  up  at  her  father  and  held  her  breath. 

"You!"  and  her  young  voice  cut  like  a 
whip-lash,  and  she  laughed. 

The  whir  of  Jantje's  spinning-wheel  fell 
across  the  rising  wind,  and  the  patch  on  the 
noble  shoe  of  Mevrouw  van  Loo,  in  Jan's 
lap,  was  blurred  with  tears.  The  linden  tree 
knocked  with  ghostly  branches  against  the 
lattice,  and  Saskia  dreamed,  watching  the 
flames. 

ii 

Ix  the  splendor  of  the  summer  noon  a  devil- 
may-care,  shabby  young  wanderer  strolled 
down  the  highway  singing,  a  knapsack  on  his 
back,  a  stick  in  his  hand.  He  looked  about 
him  with  keen,  curious  eyes,  and  once  he 
shook  his  head  at  the  level  landscape, 
stretched  himself  with  heart)'  good  will,  and 


256  KITWYK    STORIKS 

yawned.      'I  he  ripening  fields  swaying  softly 

in  the  light  breeze,  the  windmills  swinging 
their  black  sails  lazily,  the  cows  chewing  their 
eternal  cud,  were  beginning  to  pall. 

"  (  )h,  tor  a  breath  of  Spain!  "  he  cried,  and, 
being  a  lucky  fellow,  just  then  he  came  to  a 
break  in  a  yellow  wheat- field  by  the  roadside, 
and  there,  amid  the  ripe  grain,  the  poppies 
and  corn-flowers,  lay  a  young  maid  last  asleep 
in  the  drowsy  peace  ot  high  noon,  the  locusts 
humming  noisily,  and  her  scythe  at  her  side. 

"  1  he  gods  love  the  heedless,"  he  cried  in 
sheer  amazement  and  gratitude.  "  Some  day 
I  will  paint  her  thus,  and  I  shall  be  famous. 
\\  as  there  ever  such  glorious  hair!  Now, 
should  she  waken,  will  her  eyes  be  two  dark 
stars,  or  will  a  Hutch  cow  look  lazily  at  me? 
Shall  1  let  her  sleep?  Or — what  is  a  kiss? 
A  Ldmt  ot  the  sun  on  a  summer's  day.  Med 
dling  bee!  1  hiet  !  I  hose  are  my  roses! 
Child  —  child--!  but  saved  you  trom  the 
bee!" 

With  a  cry  she  pushed  him  away,  and  stum 
bling  to  her  teet,  she  took  to  thght  among  the 
tangled  wheat. 

"  \  ou  beautiful  child,  forgive  me,"  he  called 
after  her  in  lii/lit  remorse-. 


A    ROMANCE    OF    KITWYK  257 

She  paused,  as  it  touched  by  a  spell,  and 
looked  back.  Between  them  was  the  yellow 
strain  and  the  down-trodden  path. 

"  Most  beautiful  ot  maids,  are  you  dumb?" 
he  cried  across  the  swaying  wheat. 

There  was  flight  in  the  poise  of  her  lithe 
young  body,  but  she  lingered,  and  a  smile  be 
gan  to  quiver  on  the  edge  of  a  frown.  It  was 
not  with  an  apple  that  the  serpent  tempted 
Kve  !  I  le  came  nearer.  I  le  was  young  and 
good  to  look  at;  he  did  not  understand  repulse. 

The  frown  had  quite  fled,  and  a  sudden 
smile  touched  hen*  eyes,  her  mouth,  and  the 
dimple  in  her  round  chin. 

"  Am  I  really  beautiful  ?  " 

Her  lips  were  parted  in  frank  vanity,  and 
he  felt  that  the  nearest  ditch,  the  stagnant 
mirror  of  the  passing  clouds,  would  have  an 
swered  the  purpose  as  well  as  he. 

"  You  know  you  are." 

"No!" 

"  1  )o  you  speak  the  truth  ? "  he  asked 
curiously. 

"Yes." 

"  XVell,  then,  my  child,  you  are  the  most 
beautiful  young  maid  1  ever  saw.  Does  that 
satisfv  you  ?  " 


KITYVYK    STORIKS 


Xever  to  have  known  that  she  was  so  heau- 
titul  !  In  her  passionate  sorrow  tor  herselt 
she  forgot  his  existence. 

"  \\  ait  —  wait!"  he  pleaded.     "Shall  I  never 

see    \  i  in   a^'aill  J. 

She  lookcil  hark  and  laughed. 

"At  least  conic  hack  and  I  will  tell  \oiir 
fortune.  I  am  a  magician." 

I  he  locusts  chirped  and  the  \\nul  swayed 
the  yellow  \\heat.  A  har^e  \\'ith  a  dull  red 
sail  glided  slowly  hetweell  the  stunted  Willows 
alon^"  the  canal.  I  he  wind's  ot  tlv  Kitw\k 
null  turned  slowly. 

She  stretched  out  her  hand  across  the  bend 
in^'  \\heat.  her  eyes  dilated  with  ignorant  awe. 
It    was   a    peasant's    hand,    hard    worked    and 
roiivdi.       It    sobered    him. 

"  M  uch  h  >\  e  shall  he  \  ours,"  he 


h 


slen<  er   lingers   looked    so    white    against 
rotiL;  i    palm,  —  the    Mood    rushed    to    her 
ili  >\\  n   1  H  -nt    face. 

"  I  hat  means  ih^'ht.  and  he  touched  a  line; 
"  that,  a  i^'reat  city  :  this,  youth  that  passes  on 
the  wind's  of  a  fevered  fancy,  —  |oy  like  the 
troth  ot  wine.  —  a  short  lite  like  a  dream,  and 
then  "•  —he  paused  and  looked  into  her  in 


A    ROMANCE    OF    KITWYK  259 

tent  eyes,  and  he  forgot  her  peasant  hands 
— "  death." 

She  snatched  her  hand  roughly  out  of  his 
--rasp. 

"That  's  not  a  fortune,  —  much  you  know!" 

"  Child,  child,  at  least  I  can  prophesy  of 
the  past, —  my  kiss  was  the  first." 

Down  the  dusty  road  there  plodded  an  old 
woman  whose  back  was  bent  under  a  heavy 
load.  The  girl  saw  her. 

"  I  must  go,"  she  said  hurriedly. 

"  Tell  me  your  name  ?  " 

"  Saskia." 

"Shall  I  never  see  you  again?"  he  re 
peated  in  foolish  entreat}'. 

"  \\  no  knows? — in  the  great  city — per 
haps."  She.  laughed  and  went  down  the  road 
swinging  her  scythe1,  and  hi;  watched  her  until 
she  was  lost  among  the  poplars  of  Ten  Brink. 

The  old  woman  trudged  past  him  ;  she  was 
poor  and  crippled,  and  her  eyes  were  very 
patient.  Neither  heeded  the  other.  1  le 
awoke  as  Irom  a  day-dream,  gave  a  vicious 
cut  to  a  scarlet  poppy  bending  across  his 
path,  and  went  on  his  way;  but  he  sang  no 
more,  and  the  next  passer-by  crushed  under 
foot  the  poppy's  broken  scarlet  petals. 


Till:  spring  twilight  lay  on  the  peat-field. 
I  he  solitary  cottage  on  the  ed^'e  caught  tin- 
last  -low  ol  sunlight  on  its  window-panes. 
Here  m  righteous  exile  lived  the  one  woman 
(>t  Kitwyk  \\  ho  had  sinned,  and  at  ni-htiall 
the  peat-held,  the  cotta-e,  and  the  woman 
were  avoided  as  bem-  singularly  accursed. 
So  alter  sunset,  when  her  child  slept,  she  was 
alone  in  the  world  \\ith  her  thoughts,  while 
her  lingers  bound  brooms  ol  willow  twin's, 
and  the  wind  swept  up  from  the  dikes  am 
rustled  the  scanty  LHMSS  on  the  field,  beyond 
which,  far  from  her  unworthy  neighborhood, 
lay  Kitwyk  huddled  about  the  little  old  church. 

I  )own  the  lonely  road  came  two  figures  —  a 
hump-backed  woman  and  an  old  man  who 
earned  a  bundle  across  his  shoulder.  In  the 
silence  (it  the  sprin-  twili-dit,  the  woman  rock- 
in-  her  child  heard  the  distant  footfall  and 
looked  wistfully  alter  them,  tor  Jantje  was 
weepm-  bitterly.  I  he  way  led  out  ol  the 
village  into  the  wide  world.  At  the  turn  ol 
the  road  they  held  each  other's  hand,  am 
Iant]e  covered  her  lace  with  her  apron. 

"M\     -0(id     [ant]e,    see,    It    Is    but    to    Cl'OSS    to 


A    ROMANCE    OF    KITWYK  261 

France  and  ask  my  \vay  to  the  old  village. 
It  is  only  right  that  I  should  go;  and,  Jantje, 
the  child  shall  be  happy  yet,"  and  he  gently 
stroked  her  hand.  "  How  well  I  remember! 
—  the;  town-hall  stands  on  the  market-place, 
and  before  it  there  is  a  French  king  in 
bronze.  I  shall  go  up  to  the  council-cham 
ber  and  I  shall  say,  '  Here  am  I,  Jan  Oster- 
houpt,  upon  whose  head  you  set  a  price.  I 
claim  the  reward.'  They  '11  not  care  who 
gets  it,  having  me.  Then  —  for  I  have  thought 
it  all  out — 1  will  ask  for  some  good  priest,  and 
he  shall  send  the  money  to  Saskia,  and  she 
will  be  rich.  When,  in  the  years  to  come;, 
she;  is  happy,  Jantje,  then  tell  her — no,  never 
tell  her." 

He  loosened  her  hand  gently  and  looked 
once  more  toward  Kitwyk  melting  into  twi 
light,  with  here;  and  there  a  lamp  beginning 
to  twinkle,  shouldered  his  bundle,  and  walked 
resolutely  on.  Then  Jantje  came  to  herself. 

"Jan!  Jan!  Come  back,  Jan!"  and  she; 
stumbled  after  him.  But  he  was  beyond  her 
reach,  and  she  stood  among  the  lonely  fields, 
as  one  lost,  till  there  crept  out  of  the  cottage; 
a  pe>or  outcast  woman,  who  took  he;r  in  hen" 
arms,  and  she  laiel  her  he;ad  on  the-  brc-ast 


lni:  stork's  nest  on  the  Burgomaster's 
house  was  a  scene  ot  Limitation.  kather 
stork,  on  one  ]e-,  craneel  his  neck  over  the 
very  ediM-  ot  the  ^alile,  and  described  \\'hat 
he  sa\v  to  mother  stork,  who  \vas  minding 
her  o\\n  business.  \\liat  a  power  ot  kin 
LMia^e  he  had  !  I  ler  matron  y  bosom  swelled 
with  pride.  \\hat  he  saw  first  was  the  llur 
!_M>mast<  r's  do^  Pokier  nipping  such  calves 
as  attracted  him;  then  came  I  oby  van  Loo, 
leaping  into  the  air  and  harking  like  mad,; 
then  a  screaming  flock  of  meese  that  had 
keen  roped  into  tile  procession  as  they  were 
innocently  prointtnadinm  the  highway.  And 
at  la-^t  (Mine  the  \\  i/ard  and  the  princess  — 
at  least,  Kitwyk  said  he  must  lie  a  \\  i/ard, 
and  lather  stork  said  she  miisi  lie  a  rincess, 


s(  •  was  so    lea 

1  he  princess  rode  the  old  horse  that  drew 
the  hi  inhering  ^reen  wa^'ni,  and  the  wi/.aril 
stalked  on  In-forr.  kitwyk  was  impressed 
liy  the  u'l/ai'd's  cap,  \\lnch  was  tall  and 
square,  and  covered  with  weird  characters. 
As  for  the  rincess,  there  had  never  keen 


A    KOMANCK   OF    KITWVK  263 

seen  such  big  black  e-ye:s  and  such  a  little: 
red  mouth,  and  when  she  threw  kisses  right 
and  leit  Kitwyk  was  not  unmoved. 

"  She  is  the  most  beautiful  creature  in  the 
world  !  "  lather  stork  cried  in  ecstasy.  "  She: 
must  be  a  princess." 

"Don't  be  a  fool."  mother  stork  snapped; 
"  she  's  a  play  actress,  that  's  all  —  the  painted 
hussy  !  " 

1  lere  his  1  lonor,  the.  Burgomaster,  flung 
open  the  window  below. 

"  What  an  internal  clatter  those;  storks 
make  !  " 

The  green  wagon  had  been  drawn  to  one- 
side  oi  the  market-place,  out  ol  the-,  sacred 
neighborhood  of  the  church  and  the:  yellow 
parsonage  behind  the-  linden  hedge. 

The:  old  horse-  was  unharnessed,  and  some 
benevolent  busybody  had  brought  him  a  bun 
dle  of  young  grass,  which  he  was  grate-hilly 
munching. 

"What  are  tlu-\  doing  now?"  asked  mother 
stork. 

"  She  's  singing  a  song,"  and  lather  stork 
closed  his  eyes  with  a  fatuous  expression. 

"On  the  market-place:?     A  nice  princess! 
Mother  stork  knew  the  ways  ol  the  world. 


2f-4  KITWYK    STOKIKS 

"  Hut  such  a  sonv;'  —  and  you  know  m 
not  much  L^'iven  to  music." 

I'.ven  kitwyk  acknowledged  the  spell,  which 
was  broken  onl\  by  the  ui/ard's  ^oin^'  about 
with  a  plate,  \\hile  the  princess  strummed  an 
old  guitar,  her  beautitul  black  eyes  hungrily 
intent  on  the  pennies.  '1  he  spring  sun  shone 
cruelly  on  her  tarnished  tinsel,  the  patched, 
spangled  petticoat,  and  the  red  in  her  hollow 
cheeks.  1  he  wizard  came  back  with  an  u^K 
1(  x  >k  in  his  eyes. 

"  I  )ance   it   out   ot    Vm    it    you   can't  sm^  it, 
wench  '  '    tor   the    harvest    had    been    small. 
I  he  woman  shrank  back  as  it   from  a  blow. 

A  LMi'l  elbowed  her  way  through  the  crowd. 
She  was  a  lithe  youn^  tiling  in  a  patched 
blue  ^own,  a  bue  kerchief  over  her  hair. 
She  stood  breathless,  watching  the  \\oman 
\\ho  danced.  1  he  wizard  noticed  her  as  he 
thrummed  the  guitar  strings  she  was  a 
handsome  ^'irl. 

I  he  dancer  came  down  on  the  point  ot  her 
toes  in  a  whirl  ot  dirty  silk  and  dull  spangles, 
the  brass  chains  about  her  thin  neck  tinkled, 
the  strings  i^ave  a  final  crash,  am  Saskia 
awoke  from  a  day  dream.  kitwyk  turned  on 

Its     wooden     heels,     but     she     still     stood      spell 


A    ROMANCK    OF    KITWYK  265 

bound,  her  reel  lips  parted  with  the  quick 
beating  of  her  heart. 

"  Come  back  !  come;  back  !  "  shouted  the 
wizard,  "and  behold  a  wonder!  Kitwyk 
hesitated,  then  clattered  back  open-mouthed, 
and  gave  a  gasp  when,  with  a  sudden  gesture 
ot  his  lean  bnnvn  hand,  he  snatched  the  blue: 
kerchief  from  Saskia's  head,  and,  tossing  it  in 
the  air,  out  flew  three;  milk-white  doves,  and 
about  her  tell  a  shower  ot  crocuses,  yellow, 
purple,  and  white-.  The  elove;s  flew  away,  and 
Kitwyk  shivered  deliciously  and  eelgetd  farther 
off  from  Saskia,  who  still  stood  with  folded 
hands,  staring  upward. 

It  was  popular  opiniem  that  the;  wi/arel  was 
either  in  league  with  Saskia  or  the  elevil. 
But  Saskia  was  not  in  league  with  the;  wi/ 
arel.  Her  soul  was  se>  lull  ot  woneler  and 
longing  that  she;  elid  not  notice  how  Kitwyk 
clattered  away  and  lett  he-r  standing  quite 
alone;  in  the;  market-place-.  The;  elove;s  had 
fluttered  elown  ami  were  picking  corn  among 
the  cobblestones,  the-  prince-ss  was  in  the:  cart 
taking  off  he;r  elraggleel  tmery,  and  the  wizard 
sat  on  the  cart  steps  counting  the  pennies. 
(hit  ot  the  corner  ot  his  eye.  he  watched  Sas 
kia;  then  he  looked  up  ami  smiled. 


1'or  a  moment  her  heart  stopped  beating; 
to  lie  noticed  liy  the  dispenser  ot  happi 
ness  !  Then  the  air  seemed  full  ol  a  sudden 
tumult,  and  a  passionate,  imploring  yoim^ 
voice  cried  —  her  own  voice  heard  as  il 
in  a  dream — "  lake  me  with  you1  lake 
me  with  you  !  And  the  wi/ard  put  his  lean 
brown  linger  to  his  lips,  looked  stealthily 
about,  and  nodded  softly. 


'1  II  !•;  red -roo led  houses  ot  La  Tell ie re  peeped 
rom  amon^  the  apple  trees  in  lull  blos 
som.  1  he  hedges  and  trees  were  all  ol  a 
LM'eeii  mist,  lor  it  \\  as  springtime.  An  old 
man,  rav^vd  and  toot-sore,  hobbled  alon^'  the 
cobblestones,  and  a  L^an^'  (|l  urchins  clattered 
alter.  In  the  market  place  a  kirmess  \\  as  in 
lull  su'iiiL;';  garlands  and  banners  were  le^ 
tooned  Irom  house  to  house,  and  the  statue  ol 
the  old  I'rench  kinv;,  leaning  on  his  mighty 
two-handed  s\\ord,  looked  grimly  dou  n  at  the 
turmoil  belo\\'.  (  )\'<-r  all,  Irom  the  old  church 
steeple  the  tricolor  floated  in  the  spring 
bree/.e,  and  the  air  \\  as  lull  of  the  braying  <>1 
a  brass  band,  the  tootiiiLJ  "I  horns,  the  shrill 


A    KOMAN'CK    OF    KIT \VYIv  267 

laughter  and  chatter  of  voices,  the  clatter  of 
sabots,  and  the  twang  of  a  lonely  fiddle,  while 
through  the  narrow  lanes  surged  the  crowd, 
and  on  the  fresh,  clear  air  there  floated  the 
aroma  oi  kirmess  —  apple-blossoms  dashed 
with  fresh-baked  gingerbread.  An  old  man 
stood  on  the;  edge  of  the  market-place  in  a 
daze,  staring  at  the  turmoil. 

He  turned,  quivering  —  a  joker  struck  him 
with  a  blown-out  bladder. 

"Take  your  sour  face  away!"-  — and  he  was 
shoved  aside  —  but  tor  an  iron  railing  he 
would  have  fallen.  It  was  the  railing  of  the 
town-hall  ;  the  same  old  Justice;  stood  over 
the  doorway,  and  held  the  same,  old  broken 
scales.  He  clung  to  the;  iron  chain;  the  tur 
moil  made  him  diz/y--he  who  was  on  his 
road  to  death. 

In  the  corridor  a  gendarme  took  him 
roughly  by  the  shoulder. 

"  I  his   is   no   place   tor   beggars." 

"  I  am    no   beggar." 

"  Your   business,  then  ?  " 

"   1  o   sec;   the;    mayor." 

"Have   you   an    appointment;1" 

"  It  is  a  matter  ol  life  and  death,"  and  Jan 
Osterhoupt  could  hear  the;  terrible-  beating  of 


268  KITWYK    STORIES 

his   own    licarl.       "I    have   come —  to   deliver 
up   a   criminal  —  to   justice.." 

"An    informer!       and    the    man    looked    at 
him  with  undisguised  contempt.     "  \\C11,  then, 


I  he  door  ol  the  council  chamber  closed 
behind  them. 

"1  was  not  to  1  »e  disturbed!  the  mayor 
cried  sharply.  The  table  was  littered  with 
official  papers.  "  \  on  are  disobeying  orders/ 

"  N  our  1  bmor,  this  man  is  an  informer.' 

1  he  explanation  was  sufficient.    'I  he  mayor 
examined    (an  Osterhoupt  with    a   cont<  mptu 
ous    scrutiny. 

"An    informer/      Against  whom?" 

I  hen   the   old    man    raided   his  head  proudly 
—  the  hour  of  reparation  had  come  at  last. 

"Against  myself,"  said   (an  ( )sterhoupt. 

A.\  icy  \\ind  swept  up  from  the  sea,  and 
the  houses  ot  kitwyk  were  closed  against  the 
bla^t;  then'  was  not  even  a  do^  in  the 
streets.  In  the  castle  of  I  en  llrmk.  (ulfrouw 
de  Kock  sat  by  the  kitchen  tire  and  tried  to 
read  the  Ilible,  but  she  looked  up  as  the  wind 
swept  through  the  old  banqueting  hall,  and 
said  softly,  "  (  KM!  have  pit\  on  all  wanderers 
to  ni'dit  '  " 


A    ROMANCE    OF    KITWYK  269 

Just  then,  down  the  stubble  of  the  frozen 
road  leading  to  Kitwyk  there  came  a  lonely 
wayfarer  ;  the  wind  beat  against  him,  and  the 
fine  sno\v  stung  his  face.  He  dragged  him 
self  along,  as  if  he  had  come  many  a  weary 
mile.  For  a  moment  he  stood  in  the  shelter 
ot  the  windmill,  and  took  breath  ;  then  he 
went  on,  but  more  leebly,  as  if  with  a  dull 
fear  at  heart.  His  footfall  echoed  on  the 
frozen  cobblestones  of  the  market-place,  and 
Juftrouw  Rozenboom,  ever  active,  vainly 
pressed  her  sharp  nose  against  the  window 
and  peered  into  the  darkness. 

At  last  he  readied  the  ghostly  poplars 
of  Ten  Drink,  swaying  in  the  icy  wind.  He 
shuffled  through  the  piled-up,  decaying  leaves. 
After  man)'  months  he;  stood  once  more  at 
his  own  threshold.  Three  times  he  took  hold 
of  the  latch,  but  his  courage  failed  him  ;  he 
sank  on  the  step  and  hid  his  face  in  his  hands 
and  sobbed. 

In    the   window    flickered   a  lamp;    and,    as 
the    whir    of    the    spinning-wheel    fell    across 
the    wind,   there   came   to    Jantje,  through    the 
buzz   of    the    wheel,    a    weak    cry:     "Jantje- 
[antje  !  " 

"  It   is   the   wind,"   she   murmured,    but   she 


KITWYK    STOKIKS 


m 


trembled  as  she  crept  to  the  window  to  tri 
the  lamp.  1  low  often  in  lonely  nights  had 
she  lain  awake  hearing  (an's  voice:  in  the 
\\nul  as  it  swept  up  from  the  sea1-  -And 
were  he  to  come,  and  were  he  to  ask, 
"  \\  here  is  Saskia  ?  " 

I  he  tears  tell  do\\ r,  her  withered  face. 
"  Child,  child,  come  back  —  only  come  back  !' 
and  she  wiped  the  dull  panes  so  that  she  who 
had  strayed  mi^ht,  it  (  iod  so  willed,  find  her 
way  back  to  the  old  home. 

I  hen  a^'am,  through  the  rise  and  tall  of 
the  wind.  "  [antje —  Jantje  '  and  she  had 
torn  open  the  door,  and  there,  on  the  steps, 
in  the  winter  wind  and  the  whirl  of  the  snow, 
lay  a  man. 

"  |ant)e —  fantje  !  '  and  his  i^ray  head  was 
on  her  breast,  and  his  lading  m'a/.e  sought  her 
patient  eyes.  "\\hen  1  told  them  why  I  had 
come,  they  only  laughed  at  me,  [antje  ;  they 
<  Mily  laughed  at  irie  — 

And,  his  old  head  bem^  worthless,  and  his 
last  hope  blighted,  Jan  ( )sterhoii])t  died. 

And    this  was    the    romance    ot    Kitwvk. 


THK    STORY    OK    LKSKKN 


HK  world  is  such  a  small  place!  New 
York  and  Kitwyk  —  to  think  they  ever 
had  anything  in  common  !  Not  that  it  was 
much,  to  be  sure,  for  it  was  only  old  Lesken, 
who  played  the  very  last  of  the  second  vio 
lins  in  the  orchestra  of  \\  allack's  theater  — 
how  man\'  ages  ago  !  •  —  and  who  scratched 
away  at  his  fiddle  for  dear  life,  only  pausing 
when  a  string  snapped  —  melodrama  is  so 
wearing  on  fiddle-strings.  Light  chairs  had 
old  Lesken  worn  out  in  his  corner,  and  the 
plush  top  of  the  orchestra  railing  had  become 
old  and  shabby  man)'  a  time  with  the  weight 
of  his  heavy  hand,  as  he  sat  lost  in  thought, 
or  shaking  his  head  at  the  play,  as  much  as 
to  say  : 

"  You  painted  images,  do  you  call  this  a 
play, —  this  grief,  this  misfortune?  Why,  I 
could  show  you  —  " 

So  ran   his  thoughts  as  his  head   sunk   for- 


\\.ini  on  his  breast —  his  old  head,  with  its 
grizzled  hair,  and  dun  e\  es  that  looked  at 
hction  through  a  hn^'c  pair  ot  silver  spec 
tacles  perched  on  the  end  ot  a  lon^'.  thin  nose. 

\\ho  would  have  thought  ot  a  romance  in 
connection  with  old  Lesken,  as  he  sat  there 
\\ith  a  look  altout  him  as  it  he  had  e^one 
to  lied  m  his  clothes?  lie  was  always  div 
in^  into  die  depths  ot  a  musty  pocket  tor  a 
red  cotton  handkerchief,  and  then  tor  a  little 
--mled  paper  parcel,  out  ot  which  he  took  a 
comforting  pinch  ot  snntl.  while  the  hero  on 
the  stae^e  declared  his  undying"  love  tor  the 
heroine,  looking  passionately  over  her  head 
into  the  wind's. 

One  niLdit  od  Lesken  heard  a  son^.  a 
simple  melody,  that  made  the  man  forget 
halt  ,i  century.  1  houedi  the  worn  hand  Mill 
held  the  lio\\.  titty  years  had  tied,  and  he  was 
youn^  a^am.  I  housands  of  miles  had  dis 
appeared,  and  he  stood  once  more  Ix-fore  his 
lathers  house  m  kitwyk.  I  he  market  place 
\\  as  flooded  \\ith  sunshine,  tin-  pump  was  de 
sertecl,  and  the  ^rass  \\a\ed  lazily  l>et\\'een 
the  coM)  e-stones.  In  die  distance,  the  pop 
lars  ot  I  en  linnk  swayed  m  the  summer 
breeze.  .\  cow  strolled  artfully  aloiiLJ'  the 


THE    STORY    OF    LKSKEN  273 

canal   bordered    by   the   deep   red   clover-field 
of   the.    Kitwyk    windmill,    and    Jan    de    Les- 


I)K     I.KSKEX. 


ken  and  the  cow  represented  the1,  "lift;"  of 
Kitwyk.  Perhaps  yonn^  I)e  Lesken  found 
the  peace  slightly  oppressive,  for  he  stamped 


274  KITYVYK    STOKIKS 

his    loot    and    paced    up    and    down    in    a    way 
which  was   most    improper. 

So  thought  his  lather  as,  looking  out  of 
the  window,  he  caught  sivdu  ot  his  son. 
Mynheer  de  Lesken  \\'as  tilled  \\'ith  righteous 
wrath,  and  leaning  out,  he  cried  : 

"\\hat  are  yon  dom^'  there  at  this  time 
ot  day,  [an?  \\hat  will  Mynheer  van  der 
\elde  say,  should  he  see  you?  (  10  to  the 
counting-room  instantly!  1  hen  the  window 
closed  with  a  phlegmatic  deliberation  th.it 
argued  ill  tor  the  culprit. 

Mynheer  yan  der  \elde  lived  o\'er  the  way 
in  a   substantial  dwelling  of  a  butt   color,   with 
Dallied     root,     inntniH'.rable    windows,     and     a 
L^Teen  trout  door  that  boasted  a  brass  knocker 
of   da/zlin^   brilliancy,  and    the    prnlc   of    Mis 
tress  Hetty's  heart.      (  >ld   1  )e   Lesken's  remark 
was   merely  a  chance  shot;    tor,  though   Myn 
heer  van   der  \  elde    really  lay  in    ambiish    be 
hind    the    muslin    window-curtains,    putting   at 
his  lon^  clay  pip1',  he  \\-as  engrossed  m  watch 
iiiv;'  the  maid  servants  at  the   pump,  and  mak 
m^'    mental    notes    of    all    such    as    loitered    to 
gossip  on  the  way.        l>ut  it    M\nheer  \  an  der 
\elde    \\  as    thus    seriously   occupied,    at    least 

Mlstl'e>s    l>ett\     had     leisure    eiloll^'h     to    look    at 


TIIK    STORY    OF    LKSKK.X  275 

Jan  as  he  stood  there,  with  the  silver  buttons 
of  his  coat  and  the  buckles  of  his  shoes  glit 
tering  in  the:  sunlight.  There  was  a  name 
less  grace  even  in  the  black  ribbon  that  tied 
his  long  brown  hair. 

"  All  the  other  young  Mynheers  are  so  fat/' 
and  Betty  stole  another  glance  across. 

However,  Mynheer  de  Lesken  was  not 
born  to  be  disobeyed,  and  at  his  words  }an 


slowly  disappeared  into  the  house.  For  a 
moment  the  duster  in  Mistress  Betty's  little 
right  hand  stopped  its  godly  work  while  she 


heaved  a  gentle  si^h.  and  such  was  her  un 
wonted  al)sence  of  mind  tliat  she  knocked 
down  a  very  hideous,  hut  very  sacred  orna- 
mcnt.  and,  as  she  examined  the  injury  done 
to  tile  ULdy  little  object,  wondered  what  could 
tor  a  moment  have  disturbed  the  calm  ot  her 
placid  life. 

ii 

MYMIKKK  UK  LKSKKN  was  a  well  to  do 
man  —  some  said  a  rich  man. 

Once    there    had    been    a    Mevrouw.      Yes, 
late   had    ruffled    Mynheer's   calm    career  with 
a   wile. —  peace    to   her   gentle,  troubled    soul1 
—  who  had  during  her  lite  time  been  his  con 
Maul   worry,  just  as   [an  was  now. 

"  \  on  Ye  the  son  ot  your  mother!  Myn 
heer  would  cry,  in  the  climax  of  the  battle^ 
with  his  heir. 

P>ut.  perhaps,  [an's  greatest  crime  and, 
as  he  thought  o(  n,  Mynheer  came  as  near 
shuddering  as  a  phlegmatic  Hutch  burgher 
can  —  was  that  he  pl.iyed  the  violin.  lie 
tilled  the  house  \\ith  its  lii^h,  clear  tones  till 
Mynheer,  in  a  lit  ot  ra^e,  \\ith  his  tinkers  m 
his  outraged  ears,  strode  up  and  down  the 
room  twice  in  succession, —  a  circumstance 


THE    STORY    OF    LESKKN  277 

which  had  not  happened  even  when  Mevrouw 
died. 

Once  before  there  had  been  such  a  scene  : 
when  Jan  said  that  he  wanted  to  be  an  artist 
—  a  violinist. 

High  words  there  had  been  between  father 
and  son.  His  son  a  musician  —  his  son!  A 
beggar,  a  thief,  an  artist !  So  Mynheer  clas 
sified  these  professions.  A  beggarly  fiddler, 
when  there  was  an  opening  in  the  wholesale 
grocery  business  worthy  ot  a  king!  In  bit 
terness  of  spirit  the  old  merchant  walked 
through  his  richly  filled  warehouses,  and  stood 
in  stern  contemplation  of  raisins  and  coffee; 
and  grains  and  molasses. 

The  divine  art  was  represented  in  Kitwyk 
by  Kobus,  who  held  the  position  ol  town 
trumpeter.  Kobus  had  lett  one  ot  his  legs 
in  the  Seven  Years'  War,  and  having,  in  this 
practical  way,  been  cured  ot  roving,  settled 
down  by  the  canal,  and  represented  the  divine 
arts  in  Kitwyk.  I  le  was  the  only  artist  Myn 
heer  had  ever  seen  ;  and,  good  heavens  !  his 
son  wanted  to  become  an  artist! 

Mynheer  de  Lesken's  house  lay  uncom 
promisingly  on  the  street,  with  neither  tree 
nor  grass-plot  to  relieve  its  white  exterior. 


main  impressed  you;  there  stooil  the  ureat 
ware-houses  and  the  counting  room,  into 
whose;  windows  a  couple  ol  apple  trees 
nodded  cheerily.  I'our  clerks  sat  at  the  tall 
desk  in  the  center  ol  the  lar^e.  hare  room, 
while  a  smaller  desk,  in  a  state  ot  chaos,  stood 
deserted  m  a  corner.  I  he  head  clerk,  old 
I  Metrich,  i^'lancin^  at  it.  shook  his  lone-,  wooden 
head  disapprovingly.  Length  was  I  Metrich's 
chiel  characteristic,  just  as  roundness  was 
that  ol  the  other  three.  Thirty  five  years 
had  he  liccn  in  Mynheer's  employ,  and  il 
faithfulness  is  rewarded,  I  heirich  was  a  can 
dulat e  l<  >r  a  en  m  n. 

Sud<  enly  then-  came  through  the  open 
window  the  passionate,  pleading  tones  ol  a 
violin,  and  I  Helrieh,  looking  up  \\ith  a  start 
and  a  Iroun,  sa\\  Jan  at  his  attic  window, 
with  his  viol m  tint  er  his  chin,  playing  as  it 
the  \\orld  could  live  without  su^'ai"  and  mo 
lasses,  and  as  it  he,  simple  (an  de  Lesken, 
could  conjure  up  another  \\orld  with  fiddle 
and  how.  <  Md  l>ietrich  scratched  his  head 
under  his  sand\  \\IL;.  in  much  displeasure. 
Striding  to  the  window,  he  called  to  the  un- 
siisectm^  culrit  : 


THK    STORY    OF    LKSKEN  279 

"  Cornet  down  instantly,  Mynheer,  and  fin 
ish  your  letter  about  the  herrings  !  " 

So  Jan  came  back  to  the  world  and  the 
herrings,  and  Jan's  father,  smoking  a  pipe  in 
the  family  sitting-room,  hearing  all,  glared  at 
the  portraits  of  his  ancestors  that  lined  the 
walls,  as  if  bidding  them  bear  testimony  against 
such  depravity. 

"Don't  scold,  old  fellow  !  "  Jan  cried,  as  he 
entered  the  counting-room.  "  Only  let  me 
play  to  you  some  day,  and  I  '11  show  you  that 
something  besides  herrings  and  molasses  can 
touch  your  Ilinty  old  heart,"  and  he  laid  his 
hand  on  Dietrich's  shoulder. 

"  Mynheer  Jan,  you  waste  so  much  time," 
the  other  said  half  reprovingly,  as  Jan  stooped 
to  pick  up  his  fallen  pen. 

"  Why,  1  call  this  wasting  time,"  cried  Jan, 
pointing  \vith  scorn  at  the  fat  ledgers.  "  Any 
body  can  do  this;  but  not  everybody  can  be 
an  artist." 

in 

MYMIKKR  DK  LKSKF.N,  waking  from  his  nap 
late,  one  afternoon,  was  the  victim  of  cross 
ness  and  gout  combined.  Mynheer's  chair 
and  the  table  at  his  side  were  planted  on  a 


KITXYYK    STOKIKS 

little  island  ot  carpet  in  tlic  exact  center  <>t 
the  spotless,  waxed  tloor.  1'rom  this  point 
ot  observation  his  sharp  ^ray  eyes  reconnoi- 
tered  in  search  ol  hidden  dust  and  cobwebs. 

Suddenly  Mynheer  ran^  a  little  bell  that 
stood  on  the  table  beside  him,  and  as  a  red- 
cheeked  maid  softly  opened  the  door,  she 
found  him  furiously  staring  at  the  very  ed^e 
ot  the  carpet  belore  him. 

"  What  do  you  call  that,  Cosette  "J  " 

Cosette  examined  the  fatal  mark,  and,  alter 
a  thoughtful  pause  : 

"  I  should  call  it  mud  ;  mud  from  the  street, 
Mynheer." 

"  I  knew  it,  I  knew  it  !  he  cried  m  tri 
umph  ;  then,  with  a  ^lare  at  Cosette,  he  ex 
claimed  : 

"  Send   1  )ietrich  to  me  at  once." 

"In  my  house  mud, —  mud."  he  muttered 
as  she  lett  the  room. 

I  Hetrich  looked  in  \\ilh  misgiving's,  bein^' 
uncertain  it  he  were  called  in  as  adviser  or 
victim.  Neither  was  Mynheer's  opening  ad 
dress  re-assuring  : 

"  Come  in  and  be  -  I  )o  y<  HI  think  I 

like  to  sit  in  a  draft  .J  I  lave  \  on  wiped  v<>ur 


THE    STORY    OF    LESKEX 


281 


"  Yes,  Mynheer." 

* 

"Do  you  see  that?  I  tell  you  this  house 
will  be  turned  into  a  pig-sty,"  he  cried,  point 
ing  to  the  carpet. 

"  Don't  go  near,  don't  step  on   the  carpet," 


DIKTKICir     KXAMINKS     TIIK     DISASTKK      FROM      A     1  USTAM'K. 

he  interrupted  himsell,  just  as  Dietrich  was 
about  to  place  an  immense  loot  on  the  little 
island. 

So  Dietrich  took  out  a  pair  ot  horn  spec 
tacles  and  examined  the  disaster  trom  a  dis 
tance. 


"  Mini  !  Mud  brought  in  by  my  son  |an  '" 
shouted  Mynheer.  "  I  tell  you  he  is  capable 
ot  anything,  a  tellenv  \\ho  brings  mud  into 
his  father's  house.  lint  I  '11  end  it  !  lie 
shall  not  till  my  house  with  mud  and  fiddles! 

ve    mate    up    my    mind'       lie    must    marry, 
and    then    he  can   LM  >  t<  >  the   devi    with    his   lid 
dies  and    mud   and    his  wife   into  the   bargain." 

"Mynheer   |an   marry?"    said    I  )ietrich,  du 
biously.       I  hen,    in    the    character   ot    adviser, 
he    took   a  hard    chair,  and    sitting  outside  the 
charmed   circle,    repeated,    doubtfully: 

"  Mynheer    |an  marry  .J  " 

"Certainly!  Me  's  old  enough — •twenty- 
three;;  don't  you  call  that  old  enough  ,J  1  do. 
I  hat  's  em  >U!_di,  1  >asta  ! 

\\heii  Mynheer  cried  "  Basta  !  '  his  word 
was  law,  and  now  only  a  special  dispensation 
o|  Providence  could  keep  \oun^  (an  simple. 

"  Mxnheer.    it     Master    |an    must    marry,    it 

slloll   d     lie     siime     olle     whom     he     Will     like." 

••  StulV !  '    interrupted    [an's  father. 

"Not  stuff.  Mynheer;  why  make  him  un- 
haj)p\  '  It  he  must  marry,  let  it  be  [utfrouw 
Hetty  \,m  del'  \ Vide,  .she  alone  \\ill  make  him 
a  suitable  \\ite.  and  having  L;I\'JII  his  advice* 
he  planted  his  feet  lirmK  on  the  sacred  carpet. 


THK    STORY    OF    LKSKEX  283 

"  Iluni,  lumi  !  "  murmured  the:  matchmaker, 
and  fell  into  a  brown  study. 

J 

Who  will  declare  that  the  good  man  had 
no  imagination,  when  we  say  that  there  ap 
peared  before  him  a  pleasant  vision  ot  Mis 
tress  Betty  filling  his  pipe  and  brew  in  Li"  a  Li'lass 

s  d  O  O 

ot  grog  lor  him  ? 

Lastly,  when  he  thought  of  two  soft,  brown 
eyes  looking-  affectionately  at  him,  the  pros 
pect  was  so  enticing  that  now,  thinking  of 
it-- yes,  he  would  haye  married  her  him 
self,  were:  it  not  so  yery  much  trouble. 

"  Hang  the  young  dog;  he  shall  haye  her," 
he:  thought,  with  a  sigh,  and,  taking  up  a 
tiny  steel  mirror  that  lay  at  his  side,  he 
looked  at  the  reflection  ol  his  fat,  choleric, 
well-preserved  old  face. 

ouw    Hetty — if    I    should    try?      \\  ho 


1  Hetrich  was  accustomed  to  his  master's 
calm  contemplation  of  his  own  charms,  so  he 
waited  patiently  till  Mynheer,  laying  aside 
the  glass,  exclaimed  with  decision  : 

"  Yes  ;    he  shall  marry  Jutfrouw   Hetty  ! 

I\  those  old  days  there  were  grand  con 
fabulations  in  regard  to  such  a  thins/  as  a 


2S4  KITWYK    S'roKII-:S 

marriage,    and    everybody    was    deeply    inter 
ested  in  the  matter,  except,  perhaps,  the  par 
ties  directly  concerned.       Jan    did   not  see  his 
father  knock  solemnly  with  the  brass  knocker 
at    the    spotless    front    door    across    the    wav. 
lie  was  still  unconscious  when   Mynheer  com 
manded  him   to  be  ready  .it  three  o'clock  that 
afternoon  to  call  at    Mynheer  van  der  Velde's. 

"\\here  you  may  perhaps  see  Jutlrouw 
Hetty,"  the  old  gentleman  added,  with  a  stilt 
wink  in  his  n^ht  eye. 

Never  had    Mynheer  been    so   facetious   be 
fore,    and    Jan    stared  ;    but   imputing    it   to   an 
extra   allowance   of    ^ro^", —  such    things   hap 
pened    in    those   days, —  said    nothing. 

Mynheer  van  der  \  ekle's  room  of  state  was 
open  to  receive  the  visitors;  the  room,  with 
its  angular  furniture,  slippery  floor,  and  innu 
merable  \  an  der  \  elde's  staring  down  from 
the  walls,  and,  over  all,  that  air  of  painful 
neatness  \\hich  will  free/e  the  most  cordial 
visitor.  1  his  was  |ust  what  old  I  )e  Lesken 
reveled  in,  so  in  ^reat  content  he  sat  down  on 
a  hard,  uninviting  sofa,  while  (an  stood  at  the 
window  and  drummed  a  tune  on  the  small 
diamond-shaped  panes.  Mynheer  van  der 
Velde  had  solemnity  enough,  and  to  spare, 


THE    STORY    OF    LESKKX  285 

as  he  entered,  leading  Mistress  Betty  by  the 
tips  of  the  tinkers.  As  tor  this  same  Mistress 
Betty  —  well,  well!  one  could  forgive  old  De 
Lesken  for  gallantly  advancing  and  kissing 
one  rosy  cheek  —  at  which  her  father  looked 
discomposed  and  Jan  wondered.  Juffrouw 
Betty  lowered  her  brown  eyes,  and  a  pink 
blush  came  and  went  as  Jan  stepped  forward 
to  greet  her.  Mynheer  de  Lesken,  taking 
her  hand  in  his,  stopped  him. 

"  [an,  there  is  a  great  surprise  in  store  for 
you.  Be  grateful  to  me,  for  I  arranged  it. 
This,  sir,  is  Betty  van  der  Yelde  now,  but  she 
is  to  be  Mevrouw  de  Lesken  and  your  future 
wife  !  " 

With  a  half-uttered  exclamation,  "  Father  !  " 
[an  had  started  back.  I  lis  heart  beat  wildly; 
he  could  have  rebelled  against  this  —  this  — 
what  ?  Against  Betty  ?  Silently  blushing  be 
fore  him,  with  a  look  in  her  dark  eyes  as  if 
she  were  quite  content  ?  Xo,  impossible!  Jan, 
seeing  that  look,  surrendered,  and,  bending 
forward,  he  kissed  the;  little  hand  that  was  as 
helpless  as  his  own  at  the  mercy  of  these  old 
men,  who  stood  by  making  mental  calcula 
tions  and  hugely  satisfied  with  their  day's 
work.  Life  was  being  shaped  for  Mynheer 


2$<>  KITWYK    STOKIKS 

Jan   by  his  cautious  lather  as   it  had  been  cut 
tor  all  his  ancestors. 

\\liy  should  he  complain?  Love?  Away 
with  such  foolish  thoughts!  \\hat  need  of  so 
useless  an  article?  \\ill  it  bear  interest5 
Can  it  he  bartered?  \o  !  Then  out  ot  tin- 
way  with  it ! 

IV 

I\<  >r,i's  camped  out  by  the  canal  in  a  thatched 
cottage  containing   one   room.      \\ith   the   fic 
tion  ot  a  camp  and  a  ruthless  enemy  in  mind, 
he   had    everything   ready    for    instant   retreat. 
A  great  hearth   there  was;    a  bed  in  a  cornel"; 
an  easy-chair  (with  a  romance  attached).      He 
side    the    bed    stood     the    trumpet    wrapped    111 
green    hai/e,    and    over   it,    against    the   white 
washed   wall,  hung    Jan    de    Leskcn's   fate  —  a 
fiddle    and    bow. 

1  low  often  Jan  had  heard  the  old  man  play 
on  it  the  melodies  he  had  learned  in  his  pro 
gress  through  the  world,  believing  what  In- 
said  of  elves  who  lived  in  the  quaint  wooden 
box  and  touched  the  strings  with  invisible 
lingers  ! 

One  never-to-be-forgotten  day  old  Kohus 
placed  the  fiddle  in  his  arms,  and  little  by 


THK    STORY    OF    LKSKKX  287 

little,  taught  him  all  lie  knew,  till  he  discov 
ered  that,  ignorant  as  he  was,  the  boy  played 
as  only  untaught  genius  can  play.  Like  a 
couple  of  conspirators,  they  used  to  come  to 


gether  of  an  evening,  with  the  fear  ot  Myn 
heer's  righteous  wrath  before  their  eyes,  and 
Kobus  would  tell  stories  ot  the  Seven  Years' 
\Var,  interlarded  with  goblins,  till  Jan  shivered 
even  at  the:  familiar  plashing  of  the  canal. 
At  last  rumors  reached  Me\  rouw's  ears,  and 


288  KITYVYK    STORIKS 

[an  confessed,  and  his  mother  went  by  stealth 
to  Kohus's  house  and  heard  her  boy  ])lay  ; 
then  she  wept  bitterly,  as  it  old  memories  had 
been  awakened.  One  day.  in  a  moment  of 
sheer  insanity,  she  planned  a  surprise  for 
Mynheer. 

I  he  <  oor  was  opened,  and  Mynheer,  waking 
from  his  nap,  saw  little  |an  with  his  violin,  fol 
lowed  by  his  mother.  Pleading,  she  said  to 
Mynheer  : 

"It  is  a  surprise." 

It  was  a  surprise  all  round  ;  for,  as  fan 
played,  Mynheer's  face  ^rew  fiery  red. 

"'lake  that  bev^'ar's  trash  away."  he 
shouted,  "and  don't  let  me  hear  it  a^ain  ! 
^  ou  'd  like  Kobus's  place,  would  you,  yonn^" 
man  .J  As  tor  you,  Mevrouw,  aceept  my  con 
gratulations;  your  son  bears  the  strongest  re 
semblance  to  you  —  u^'h  !  Mynheer  cried  in 
undisguised  disgust,  and  so  ushered  them  out 
of  the  room. 

I  here  is  nothing  like  the  hopelessness  of  a 
passion  to  make  it  strong.  I  low  could  [an 
help  it  that  every  lovely  sound  knocked  at  his 
heart's  door?  It  was  both  his  ]<>y  and  his 
misfortune.  Music  was  to  him  a  urer, 

IK 


THE    STORY    OF    LESKEN  289 

his  soul  with  dreams  that  were  but  fantastic 
foolery  to  other  men. 

Kobus's  house  was  his  paradise  ;  here  all 
space  became  alive  with  the  tones  the  young 
fellow  drew  from  the  violin,  while  Kobus  looked 
on  with  proud  eyes. 

"  You  are  my  child,"  he  would  say.  "  When 
I  die  you  will  take  the  violin  and  trumpet  and 
my  sword,  and  keep  them  in  memory  of  me, 
will  you  not?  This  house  is  to  go  to  my  old 
cousin,  for  what  do  you  care  for  it?  Are  you 
not  Mynheer  }an  de  Lesken  ?  " 

That  was  just  his  misfortune  ;  to  be  Jan  de 
Lesken,  with  his  path  in  life  so  neatly  marked 
out  for  him,  that  he.  awoke  one  fine  morning 
and  remembered  that  the  day  before;  it  had 
been  decreed  that  Betty  van  der  Yelde  should 
become;  his  wife. 

Then  did  Jan,  looking  up  at  the;  white;  bed- 
curtain,  heave  a  rebellious  sigh  ;  but  the  next 
instant  he  turned  over  to  the  other  side  and 
calmly  went  to  sleep  again. 


V 

Till':    betrothal    day    had   come    and    gone. 
Mynheer    van    der    Yelde's    house    had    been 


21)0  KITYVYK    STORIKS 

thrown  open  on  that  occasion, —  if  one  can 
apply  so  violent  a  term  to  the  serious  cere 
mony.  1'at  Mynheers  and  buxom  Mevrouws, 
besides  sons  and  daughters  ot  various  shapes, 
had,  \vith  staid  demeanor,  congratulated  the 
liappy  couple. 

Mistress  Betty,  in  her  blue  brocaded  ^own. 
with  the  yellow  satin  petticoat,  looked  de 
murely  satislied  out  ot  her  brown  eyes,  calm 
and  quiet  and  fair — just  the  ideal  of  a  Hutch 
maiden,  as  she  leant  back  in  the  hi^'h-backed 
chair,  while  Mynheer  Jan,  who  stood  at  her 
side  rather  listlessly,  wore  a  look  ot  uncon 
cern,  nay,  quiet  indifference,  which  was  felt  to 
be  highly  proper  under  every  circumstance, 
and  especially  the  present. 

Mynheer  van  der  Velde,  it  not  much  ac 
quainted  with  that  or^an  called  the  heart,  so 
much  the  more  understood  its  neighbor  —  the 
stomach. 

Rich,  sweet  cordials  were;  drunk  to  the 
health  ot  bride  and  LH'oom  ;  tarts  of  ma^ic  fla 
vors,  with  true  lovers'  knots  upon  them,  stood 
on  lone;  tables;  pineapples,  brought  at  ^'reat 
expense  from  the  hast  Indies,  made  the  M\n 

heers'  mouths  water;  delicious  teas  furthered 
''"ossip,  and  there  was  a  certain  little  room  to 


THE    STORY    OF    LKSKEN  291 

which  the  magistracy  of  Kitwyk  were  led 
by  a  red-cheeked  maid  in  a  white  cap,  witli 
glistening,  golden  ornaments  hanging  down 
on  either  temple,  where  they  were  given 
grog  and  rum,  and  many  another  good  thing 
besides. 

So  Mynheer  van  der  Yelde  and  Mynheer 
de  Lesken  were  well  content,  and  as  the  senti 
ments  of  the  newly  betrothed  were  a  matter 
ot  utter  indifference  to  everybody,  bliss  may 
be  said  to  have  reigned  supreme. 

THKKK  came-,  a  mid-autumn  day  when  the 
apple-trees  near  the  counting-house,  knocked 
with  ripened  fruit  against  the:  little  windows  ; 
when  the  flowers  were  in  their  last  superb 
glory ;  when  the  grapes  hung  heavy  arid 
purple  on  the  vines.  The  afternoon  sun  still 
shone,  but  there  was  a  chill  in  the  air. 

Mynheer  de  Lesken  walked  through  the 
long  hall  in  his  house,  wrapped  in  half  a  do/en 
cloaks,  and  with  his  cocked  hat  on  his  head. 
As  he  reached  the  kitchen,  he  slipped  in  sud 
denly  for  a  breath  of  warm  air,  and  at  the  same 
time  to  see  i!  the  maids  were  doing  their  duty. 
Mynheer  was  a  housewife  at  heart  ;  he  had  a 
neat  turn  for  cooker)'  and  was  a  connoisseur 


2<)2  KITWYK    STORIKS 

in  polished  copper.  As  he  put  his  head  in  at 
the  door,  scores  ol  Mynheers  \vere  reflected 
hack  from  the  scoured  pans  and  pots  that  hun^ 
against  the  walls. 

Satistied  with  the  effect  his  unexpected  pres 
ence  produced,  wrapping  himself  more  tightly 
in  his  cloaks,  the  old  gentleman  directed  his 
steps  alon^'  the  kitchen-garden  to  the  count 
ing-room. 

With  approving  eyes  he  looked  at  the  yel 
low  pumpkins  that  had  tried,  with  elephantine 
playfulness,  to  L;TOW  over  the  fence  of  the  m- 
closure  ;  then  at  the  delicate  rose-cabbage, 
the  lettuces,  the  juicy  turnips  and  carrots, 
which,  it  not  quite  in  their  youth,  were  not  to 
be  despised.  I  hen  came  the  tulip-bed.  I  he 
L^'iy,  flaunting  flowers  were  IOIIL;  since  dead, 
and  only  a  lew  withered  stalks  remained.  (  )]d 
IV  Lesken  had  no  objection  to  tulips;  his 
grandfather  had  been  a  monomaniac  on  the 
subject,  and  he  had  a  ^reat  respect  for  his  an 
cestors.  1  uhps  had  also  a  market  value,  and 
were  not  merely  idle  sentiment.  So  Myn 
heer  cultivated  them,  and  felt  as  it  he  were 
patroni/m^'  Xature.  Hut  now  the  tulipbed 
was  bare;  a  chill  \\'ind,  sweeping  by,  lifted 
the  fourth  of  his  six  cloaks,  and  eyave  Mvnheer 


THE    STORY    OF    LESKEN  293 

a  humorous  poke  in  the  ribs,  then,  passing  on, 
made  the  withered  tulip-stalks  so  very  con 
spicuous  that  Mynheer's  orderly  soul  writhed 
at  the  contusion. 

At  that  unlucky  moment  Jan,  with  a  quill 
behind  his  ear,  stepped  out  ol  the  counting- 
house  and,  in  the  supposed  sweetness  ot  soli 
tude,  gave  an  enjoyable  yawn  ol  the  most 
honest  description,  when  he  suddenly  caught 
his  father's  eyes  fixed  on  him  with  a  look  of 
unmistakable  wrath. 

"  Perhaps  you  'd  like  a  bed  next  to  your 
desk,  sir  !  " 

"But,  father- 

"  1  )on't  interrupt  me!"  Mynheer  cried, 
growing  red.  "  I  have  some  other  things  to 
say  to  you.  It  's  enough  to  —  to  —  to  choke 
with  rage  to  be  your  lather  ! 

"  Father,  you— 

"  Don't  interrupt,  sir!  Here  I  have  worked 
myself  to  death  for  you,  and  you  're;  not  grate 
ful  !  I  betroth  you  to  a  young  person  of — ot 
-unexceptionable  qualities,  and  you  neglect 
her.  Yes,  neglect  her  !  Mynheer  cried,  quite 
regardless  that  Dietrich's  wooden  face  turned 
to  die  window,  troubled  and  perplexe.d. 

"  Father,"   said    Jan,    straightening   himself 


2.4  K1TWYK    STOKIKS 

up,  proudly,  "  you  're  unjust  to  me  ;  you  have 
always  l>een  so.  As  you  say,  this  marriage  is 
ot  your  making;  you  did  not  consult  me. 
Let  that  pass,  tor  others  are  no  Letter  oil.  I 
suppose  you  married  my  mother  in  the 
same  way." 

"  1  low  dare  you,  sir — 

"bather,  hear  me.  I  have  not  opposed 
your  wishes,  l>ut  you  have  at  least  no  power 
to  make  me  love  [utfrouw  Hetty." 

"Love!  Stutt  !  \\  ho  wants  you  to  love 
any  one2  I  want  you  to  marry  her,  that  is 
all.  \  ou're  to  be  civil.  As  lor  love  -  d—  — d 
nonsense,  all  ot  it'  '  cried  Mynheer,  quite  lie- 
side  himself. 

"1  do  enough,  lather,  hut  it  you  are  not 
satisfied,  release  me.  [ulirouw  Hetty  \\ill  not 
break  her  heart. 

"  \\  hy  should  she  break  her  heart,  you  cox 
comb3     l)iit  you  shall  marry  her,  sir.     1  )o  you 
hear  me  .J     \  es,  you  shall  marry  her  two  weeks 
from  to  day.       1  swear  you  shall." 

Mynheer  gasped  furiously,  and  so  shook 
under  his  six  cloaks,  that  there  is  no  kno\\ 
in^'  what  he  mi^ht  have  done  had  not  old 
I  )ietrich  at  that  moment  opened  the  counting- 
house  door,  and  so  become  an  unconscious 
li'j'htnin'j  rod. 


THE    STORY    OF    LESKEN  295 

HAD  Jan  re  tally  neglected  Juffrouw  Hetty? 

Well,  one  could  hardly  say  neglected  ;  he 
had  simply  resigned  himself  to  Mistress  Betty 
as  to  the  inevitable. 

Once  a  week  he  sat  in  the  state-room  ol 
Mynheer  van  der  Yelde's  house,  and  saw  Betty 


JAN'S  cm  KT.smr. 

knit  with  tireless  hands,  or  embroider  moral 
samplers. 

She  was  satisfied,  lor  her  day-dream  had 
become  a  reality. 

Passion?  Love?  Such  words  were  un 
known  to  her.  They  would  have  thrown  her 
peaceful  little  soul  into  a  state;  ol  confusion. 

So  Jan  sat  dumbly  by,  and  Betty  was  satis- 


2  ,6  KI  F\VYK    STORIKS 

tied;  only  Mynheer  de  I.esken,  in  a  curious 
leelm^"  ot  atlection  tor  his  tuture  daughter,  had 
let  his  imagination  run  away  with  him,  lor 
|an  seemed  to  all  Kitwyk  a  model  lover. 

So  old  1  )c  I  .esken's  an^ry  words  tell  on  deal 
cars;    lor  Mynheer    |an  continued   his  wooing 
with   even  more  than    I  hitch   inditterence   and 
tranquillity. 

VI 

\\H\T  Mynheer  I  )<•  Lesken  had  once  de 
creed,  was  sure  to  he. 

Mynheer  van  der  \elde  had  consented,  and 
the  wedding  was  to  take  place  in  two  weeks. 

Ihcre  was  no  surprise  tor  Mistress  Hetty, 
no  bustle  and  hurry  and  excited  consultations. 
Mevrouw  van  der  \  elde  had  occupied  her  pla 
cid  career  in  collecting  h.er  daughter's  trous 
scan,  when  that  daughter  was  still  in  s\\  addling 
clothes. 

The  L^'eat  presses  groaned  \\ith  the  weight 
of  exquisite  linen,  each  do/en  ot  everything 
tied  with  dainty  red  nlihons,  and  the  odor 
of  all  as  fragrant  as  new-mown  hay  in  an 
early  Mimmer's  morning. 

Imitations  were  sent  tar  and  wide.  'I  he 
l)uriromaster  oj  Amsterdam  came,  —  he  was  a 


THE    STORY    OF    LKSKEX  297 

Van  der  Yelcle,  and  the  most  illustrious  of  his 
name.  There  was  invited  a  syndic  of  Rotter 
dam,  and  two  from  the  I  I  ague,  and  'a  godly 
divine  from  Arnhem. 

There  came  a  l)e  Lesken  from  Amsterdam, 
who  had  obtained  leave  of  the  city  fathers  to 
have  the  great  posts  and  connecting  chains, 
which  extended  the  whole  length  ot  his  house, 
made  of  silver, —  solid  silver,  while  iron  con 
tented  most  people.  But  he  cursed  his  folly  ; 
tor,  though  they  remained  there  as  a  lasting 
token  of  the  honesty  or  incapacity  of  every 
Dutch  thief,  this  DC;  Lesken  could  never  go 
to  sleep  without  the  haunting  iear  of  find 
ing  them  gone.  One  morning  they  found 
him  dead  at  his  window.  Physicians  called 
it  apoplexy  ;  but,  really,  he  was  killed  by  his 
silver  chains. 

He  was  still  enough  alive  to  come  to  Jan's 
wedding,  fleeing  from  his  torture  in  a  lum 
bering  chariot  and  six  ;  and  as  he  descended 
at  Mynheer's  door  he.  shed  much  glory  upon 
the  town. 

\\  hat  a  time  it  was  !  Such  packages  as 
the  trekschuit  brought  !  Silver  by  the  ton, 
by  the  square  yard,  and  all  to  burst  in  an 
accumulated  flash  ot  glory  upon  the  good 


-Vs  KITWYK    STOK1KS 

town  ol  kitwyk  on  the  eventful  weddin"' 
day. 

I  low  the  sun  shone  that  clay  !      As  if  it  had 
determined    to   do    something    ercat   in    honor 
ol  the  occasion  !    \  an  der  \  eKles  and   1  )e  Les- 
kens  came   Irom   everywhere:    on  loot,  in    un 
\\ieldy  chariots,  and  some  in  sedan  chairs. 

Mynheer  van  der  \  elde's  house  was  hun^ 
with  garlands  inside  and  out.  The  state 
room  was  turned  into  a  delicious  arbor  ol 
(lowers,  amid  which  wandered  illustrious  \  an 
der  \eldesm  velvet  coats,  and  knee-breeches, 
and  massive  golden  chains,  and  \  an  der 
Vcldes  in  silken  and  satin  ^'owns  and  nodding 
plumes. 

Over    the    way,    Mynheer    de    Lesken    had 

sworn     not     to     l>e    outdone.         lie     was     to    lM\e 

the  (  inner  alter  the  ceremony,  and,  ah!  it 
yon  could  only  have  seen  the  ^or^eous  plate. 
Kven  the  I  )e  Lesken  ol  the  posts  and  chains 
raised  his  eyebrows  one  eighth  ol  an  inch, 
\\hich  is  equivalent  to  a  dictionary  ol  the  ad 
jectives  ol  ordinary  mortals. 

The  whole  of  Kitwyk  had  Hocked  together 
before  the  Van  der  \elde  hoii.se;  everybody 
\\lio  had  a  spare  moment  de\'oted  it  to  staring 
at  the  all  important  mansion,  or  at  the  idass 


THE    STORY    OF    LESJvEX  299 

coach  which  stood  before  the  door,  read)-  to 
bear  off  Mistress  Betty  to  the  old  church  on 
the  market-place,  where  the  Dominie  already 
stood  in  the  vestry,  rehearsing  his  address  to 
the.'  you  no-  couple. 

Dominie,  Dominie,  there  's  man)'  a  slip 
between  the  cup  and  the  lip  ! 

As  tor  Mistress  Betty,  she  also  was  ready. 
Calm,  demure,  plump,  and  rosy,  she  sat  in 
her  room,  while;  about  her  bustled  yarious 
illustrious  feminine  Van  der  Veldes  ;  one  fast 
ened  the  myrtle  wreath,  another  clasped  a 
pearl  circlet  about  her  fair  throat,  while  still 
another  smoothed  the  rich  folds  of  the  bridal 
dress. 

This  was  the  realization  of  Mistress  Betty's 
most  romantic  dreams  :  not  marrying  the  man 
she;  loyed,  oh,  no  !  but  sitting  here  in  a  gor 
geous  gown,  so  lazy  and  so  important,  and 
haying  eyery  one  at  her  beck  and  call.  Jan,  to 
be;  sure,  was  young  and  handsome-,  but  he  was 
so  very  odd,  his  future  Meyrouw  thought  witli 
sincere  disapproval.  She  had  even  known 
him  to  wonder,  and  Mistress  Betty  abhorred 
wondering  as  much  as  did  her  future  father- 
in-law.  She  had  pouted  her  pretty  red  lips 
with  as  much  scorn  as  her  little  phlegmatic 


3oo  KITWYK    STORIKS 

soul  could  exhibit,  and  it  |;in  had  had  even 
the  heavy  gallantry  <>t  one  ot  the  despised 
yoiin^  Mynheers,  he  would  have  kissed  the 
pout  away  troni  the  rosy  month;  but,  instead, 
he  looked  inditterently  on  and  moved  not  a 
muscle.  So  Hetty  never  forgot  that  he  had 
an  uncomfortable  habit  ol  wondering,  and  that 
he  would  not  kiss  her,  even  \\ith  the  best  ol 
<  >pportumties. 

I  herelore  she  sat  calm  and  rosy  and  con 
tented,  without  the  unpleasant  emotion  of 
having  her  heart  beat  one  decree  faster  than 
ordinary. 

A  model  daughter-in-law  tor  Mynheer  de 
Lesken! 


C<  >\  n:\T\n.\T  was  enthroned  on  Mynheer 
de  Lesken's  countenance  that  morning,  as  lie 
sat  in  the  leathern  chair  in  the  sitting-room, 
doniLi"  the  honors  ot  his  house;  to  his  kinsman 
ot  the  post  and  chains,  \\ho  sat  opposite  to 
him,  tramping  quite  unconcernedly  with  one 
polity  loot — tor  ot  course  he  had  the  ^'out, 
—  upon  the  sacred  carpet:  a  liberty  which 
would  have  brought  down  maledictions  Irom 
M  \  nheer  on  an  v  one  else. 


THE    STORY    OF    LESKEN 


301 


In  one  hour  Mynheer  would  have  a  daugh 
ter  ;  a  dear,  ideal  daughter,  who  could  fill  a 
pipe  and  mix  a  glass  of  grog. 


— _>•''     -         — -iiJiT 
-   ~.  -    TSf- 

I)E    I.F.SKKX    ENTERTAINING. 


Jan  had,  to  be:  sure,  a  part  to  play  in  the 
coming  event,  and  Mynheer,  suddenly  over 
come  by  paternal  feelings,  remembered  that, 
in  attending  to  the  welfare  of  De  Lesken  of 
the  posts  and  chains,  he  had  quite  lost  sight 
of  his  son,  whom  he  had  not  seen  since  the 


;,02  KITWYK    STOKIKS 

state  dinner  of  the  evening  before.  'I  hen. 
too,  the  pleasant  opportunity  of  bein^  wise 
before  Ins  honored  ^iiest  ! 

"  I  must  see  him,"  thought  Mynheer,  and 
ran^  the  bell. 

"  Cosette,  ask  Mynheer  (an  to  come  here; 
1  wish  to  speak  to  him.  A  j_n>od  hid,  a  ^ood 
lad,"  he  said  to  Mynheer  of  Amsterdam,  with 
a  wave  of  his  riedu  hand;  "but  more  like  tin- 
late  Mevrouw  than  myself,"  -  the  most  touch 
ing  allusion  he  had  ever  made  to  his  departed 
wife.  I  lere  the  door  was  opened  and  Cosette's 
head  appeared. 

"  If  you  please,  Mynheer,  I  knocked  at  the 
door,  but  no  one  answered." 

"  (  io  back  and  open  the  door." 

"If  you  please.  Mynheer,  I  opened  the 
door,"  said  Cosette,  re  appearing. 

"Well?" 

"Then     I     walked    in,    it    you    please,     Myn 
heer  — 

"  What  then  ?" 

"It  you  please,   Mynheer  — 

"I)—     —  n  'it  you  please,   Mynheer1 

"Certainl,  it  —  it      ou  —  I  —  I  mean.  Mn 


last  ni'jht." 


THE    STORY    OF    LESKEN  303 

"  That  's  enough,  Go  to  Dietrich  ;  perhaps 
my  son  is  with  him.  You  must  know,"  he 
added,  turning-  apologetically  to  his  relative, 
"Jan,  I  am  ashamed  to  say,  is  quite  absent- 
minded,  and — and — "  he  stammered,  becom 
ing"  embarrassed  as  he  saw  the  other's  look  of 
horror,  "perhaps  he  does  n't  know  how  late 
it  is." 

"Not  know  how  late  it  is  any  day  —  and 
on  such  a  da)'?  Absent-minded  —  absent- 
minded  ?  \Yhat  is  the  world  coming  to  ?  "  ex 
claimed  he  of  Amsterdam,  in  a  rich,  wheezy 
voice,  that  harmonized  finely  with  his  gouty 
foot. 

Mynheer  felt  the  full  force  of  this  appeal, 
and  was  silent ;  but  his  face  grew  forebod 
ingly  red. 

A  pair  of  awkward  feet  shuffled  outside  on 
the  door-mat.  The  door  was  opened,  and  in 
came  Dietrich,  superb  in  cotton  velvet. 

"  Was  Mynheer  Jan  with  you,  Dietrich?" 

"  Yes,  Mynheer." 

"When?'' 

"  Last  night." 

"Blockhead!  1  want  to  sec1  him  now," 
cried  Mynheer. 

"  I    have    not    seen    him    to-dav.       Isn't    he 


304  KITWYK    ST<>K1KS 

in     his     room?"       I  Hetrich     asked     in     some 
surprise. 

"  (  )(  course  he  is  n  t.  \\  hat  are  yon  staring 
at  me  lor2"  cried  Mynheer,  in  a  passion. 
"  I  hint  him  up  !  I  le  shall  pay  lor  this  !  1  le 
\vas  only  horn  to  be  a  trouble  to  me  —  just  like 
his  mother.  1  lere,  you,  Dietrich,  send  some 
one  to  Kobus;  perhaps  the  old  tool  will  know 
where  my  son  is."  And.  for  the  second  time 
in  his  lite,  Mynheer  stalked  about  the  room  in 
uncontrollable  ra^e,  till  I  )e  hesken  ol  Amster 
dam  be^an  to  perspire,  merely  with  the  fa 
tigue  ol  looking  at  him. 

Mynheer  was,  however,  too  excited  to  be 
thoughtful.  I  le  strode  up  and  down,  last  and 
furious,  till  Mynheer  ol  Amsterdam,  with  a 
celerity  ol  imagination  that  did  him  all  credit, 
thought  of  apoplectic  tits,  and  what  not,  and 
grasped  the  handle  ol  the  tea  kettle,  that  was 
sin^in^"  away  over  the  flame  of  a  spirit-lamp 
on  the  table,  ready  for  instant  use. 

A^.un  old   1  hetnch   appeared. 

"  Mynheer,  Mynheer!  '  he  cried  anxiously, 
"  Mynheer  Jan  is  not  to  be  found,  nor  Kobus. 
(  )h,  if  something  should  have  happened  to  the 
boy!" 

M  vnheer,  m  «'Teat  ra<>"e. 


THK    STORY    OK    LESKEN  305 

"It's  only  some  of  his  impudence;  but  he 
shall  pay  for  it  !  "  he  gasped,  pulling  an  im 
mense  gold  chronometer  out  of  his  breeches- 
pocket,  and  consulting  its  staring  face.  I  )iet- 
ricli  shook  his  head,  when  suddenly  out  in  the 
hall  a  zealous  voice  shouted,  "  We  've  got  him, 
we  've  got  him  !  "  and  Mynheer,  with  a  gulp  of 
relief,  and  a  muttered  "  I )—  — n  him  !  "  tore,  open 
the.  door,  and  discovered  Kobus,  trying  with 
difficulty  to  keep  Cosette  and  two  enthusiastic 
men-servants  from  doing  him  a  bodily  injury. 

"Where  's  my  son  ?"  cried  old  I)e  Lesken, 
looking  from  one  to  the  other. 

"  ( ),  Mynheer,  Mynheer!  I  came  here  of 
my  own  accord  to  speak  to  you.  I  must  speak 
to  you." 

In  his  agitation  Kobus  saw  neither  Dietrich 
nor  Mynheer  from  Amsterdam. 

"  Mynheer,"  he  cried  pleadingly,  "the  wed 
ding  cannot  take  place  to-day." 

"(iood  (iod!  what  do  you  mean?  Is  my 
son  ill?  I  she  —  is  he  dead  ?" 

"  \o,  neither.       He  is  gone." 

"  ( ione  !  done!  Where?  Can't  you  find 
your  tongue?"  Mynheer  screamed,  beside 
himself  with  rage  and  consternation. 

"Mvnheer,  it   was   all    mv    fault,  and   vet    I, 


3  of>  KITYVYK    STORIES 

too,    was    innocent1      Be    merciful,    Mynheer. 

I  Ie  had  forgotten  that  to-day  was  to  be  his 
wedding-day." 

"  Forgotten  !  It  was  all  the  other  three 
could  i^asp  in  their  bewilderment. 

"  I  le  came  to  my  house  last  night,"  Kobus 
said  in  a  lo\v  voice.  "  I  It!  often  came  of  an 
evening,  and  —  oh,  Mynheer,  I  love  him  like 
my  own  child.  Be  lenient  with  him  !  " 

"  ( 10  on.  \\  e  're  not  interested  in  your  feel 
ings,"  muttered  I  )ietnch,  a  prey  to  grief  and 
jealousy. 

"  \Ve  talked  of  this  and  that,  and  at  last 
about  music' — Mynheer  knows  how  his  son 
loves  music,"  faltered  Kobus,  "and  we  quite 
forgot  that  to-day  was  to  be  his  wedding-day. 
At  last  I  said  that  I  had  heard  from  some  one 
who  passed  by  that  the  greatest  violinist  in 
the  world  was  to  give  a  concert  at  Arnhem 
to-day  at  noon.  After  I  had  told  him,  he  spoke 
of  nothing  else,  and  said  it  was  the  dream  of 
his  lite  to  hear  such  a  master.  Then  he  grew 
quieter,  and  soon  he  went  away,  quite  lost  in 
thought.  I  have  not  seen  him  since.  Half 
an  hour  ago  the  miller  of  Sippken  anchored  at 
the  wharf,  and  I  went  down  to  him  for  a  bit  ot 
a  talk,  and  then  for  the  first  time  I  missed  m\ 


THK    STORY   OF    LESKEN  307 

boat.  '  Some  one  's  stolen  my  boat  !  '  I  cried. 
'  He  's  honest !  '  said  the  miller.  '  What  d'  ye 
mean  ?  '  said  I.  '  Why,'  said  he,  '  I  saw  Myn 
heer  Jan  de  Lesken  step  out  of  her  at  Sipp- 
ken,  bright  and  early  this  morning-.'  '  Merci 
ful  God!  '  I  cried,  '  and  to-day  is  his  wedding- 
da)'.'  Then  I  ran  to  tell  you.  Oh,  Mynheer, 
he  will  come  back  this  afternoon,  or  to-mor 
row.  Forgive  — 

"  Out  of  my  sight,  you  scoundrel  !  "  shrieked 
Mynheer.  "  Out,  or  I  '11  —  I  '11  murder  you  !  " 
And  Dietrich  pushed  the  bewildered  Kobus 
out  ot  the  door  and  shut  it  in  his  face,  while 
Mynheer  de  Lesken  sank  into  his  arm-chair 
and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands. 

Suddenly  he  started  up. 

"  Bear  witness,"  he  cried,  "  I  disown  him 
from  this  da)'  forth.  I  have  no  more;  a  son  !  " 

"  Mynheer,  Mynheer,  think  of  what  you 
say,"  and  Dietrich  laid  his  faithful  hand  on 
his  master's  arm. 

"  Silence;  !  "  the  other  cried,  shaking-  him  off. 
"Not  another  word.  I  have  spoken  —  so  it 
shall  be.  Oh,  disgraced,  disgraced!"  he 
groaned,  sinking  into  his  chair  again. 

"  Betty,  poor  child  !  "  he  muttered.  Then 
aloud  to  Dietrich,  "To  Mynheer  van  der 


3oS  KITWYK    STORIKS 

\  elde's  instantly.  Tell  him  I  must  see  him 
this  moment.  ( io  !  Better  that  he  were  dead 
than  this,  the  villain!  But  I  have  done  with 
him.  Now  he  can  -o  to  the  devil  !  But  Betty 
—  poor,  poor  child  '.  I  low  will  it  he  with  her  5 
It  will  never  be  forgotten  that  Jan  de  Lesken's 
bride  was  not  worth  the  scrape  of  a  fiddle! 
And  Mynheer  shivered  m  his  soul-felt  disgust. 

"  Mynheer  de  Lesken,  marry  her  yourself," 
said  a  tat  voice.,  and  Mynheer  turned  about 
with  a  start  and  stared  m  sheer  amazement  at 
hi^  honored  relative,  who  presented  in  his  ri^ht 
eye  a  very  ^ood  imitation  of  a  wink. 

"  Marry — marry — I — marry  her  myself/ 
Ha!  ha  I  ha  !"  And  Mynheer  lan-hed  a  fu 
rious,  bitter  laiiLdi.  I  he  fury  and  the  bitter 
ness,  however,  faded  away,  and  the  idea  re 
mained,  I  he  idea  was  wonderfully  enticing. 
Mynheer  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and  in  the 
silence  that  ensued,  for  the  second  time  m  his 
lite,  allowed  hi^  imagination  to  run  away  with 
him. 

••  I  marry  her  myself!     I  la  !    ha  '    ha  !  "     But 
this    was   a   lau^h    of    the   deliciously    yielding 
sort.     "  \\  hy.  it  she  will  have  me —  to  be  sure, 
thirty  years  is  —  hum  !  hum  !    But  I  'm  a  »iau  .' 
cried  Mynheer,  with  a  self  satisfied  slap  on  hi^ 


THE    STORY    OF    LKSKEX  309 

breast.  "If  she  will  only — and  I  'm  a  rich 
man  !  " 

So  loose-jointed  were  Mynheer  de  Lesken's 
thoughts,  there  is  no  knowing  where  they 
would  have  stopped  il,  at  that  moment,  Myn 
heer  van  der  Yelde  had  not  opened  the: 
door. 

"  It  is  very  late,  Mynheer  de  Lesken  ;  we 
must  be  moving  ;  where  is  your  son  ?  " 

"  Mynheer,  1  have  no  son.  For  me  he  is 
dead.  This  morning"  he  went  to  Arnhem  to 
hear  a  trumpery  tiddler,  and  quite  lorgot  that 
this  was  his  wedding-day." 

Ci'kinrs  questionings  went  about;  eyebrows 
were  raised  ;  little  groups  oi  whisperers  stood 
around. 

Two  hours  had  passed  since:  the:  time  of  the 
proposed  ceremony,  yet  nothing  had  taken 
place  ;  so  the  illustrious  Van  der  Veldes  and 
the  rich  I  )e  Leskens  raised  their  eyebrows  and 
whispered.  Xot  that  they  had  been  neglected 
-by  no  means.  They  had  been  very  well 
treated,  which  meant,  in  the  understanding  of 
Van  der  Veldes  and  I  )e  Leskens,  well  led  and 
well  wined.  But  they  had  come  lor  a  wedding, 
and — where  was  the  wedding? 


310  KITWYK    STOKIKS 

Mistress  Betty  had  been  told. 

Tears?  Yes,  tears  had  been  shed;  hut 
behind  these  same  tears  her  common  sense 
\vas  on  guard. 

What!  she  forgotten  lor  a  mere  beggar:' 
Mistress  Hetty's  classification  was  after  the 
same  standard  as  Mynheer  de  Lesken's. 

She  jilted?  1  low  her  bosom  friends  would 
laugh  !  and,  as  she  thought  of  that  climax  to 
her  woes,  tears  of  bitter  earnest  rolled  down 
the  plump  cheeks.  She  to  suiter  for  this  in 
sult  all  her  lite,  and  he,  the  villain,  to  go  scot 
tree  ?  (  )h  no,  no —  it  must  not  be  ! 

Then  did  her  father  very  lalteringly  otter 
her  Mynheer  de  Lesken's  hand,  and,  as  in 
structed,  lay  his  old  heart  and  all  his  riches  at 
her  feet. 

'I  ears  flowed  unhindered  down  the  rosy 
cheeks,  but  they  did  not  pl'e\  eilt  [uttroUW 
Hetty  from  calculating  in  a  way  that  would 
have  done  honor  even  to  the  kinsman  ot  the 
posts  and  chains.  A  sense  of  calm  and  secur 
ity  came  upon  her;  alter  all,  she  could,  if  she 
only  would,  be  married  that  day  and  become 
a  Mevrouw  de  Lesken.  Then  must  that  other 
I  )e  Lesken  beware — and  through  her  placid 
little  soul  there  shot  a  feeling  ot  hate  as  strong 
as  it  was  rare. 


THE    STORY    OF    LESKEN  311 

After  all,  a  Van  der  Yelde  was  to  marry  a 
De  Lesken,  and  there  was  the  excitement  of 
unheard-of  circumstances  into  the  bargain ; 
so  thought  the  old  people.  All  the  young 
girls  said  they  pitied  the  bride,  —  though  there 
was  not  one  who  would  have  refused  Myn 
heer  de  Lesken  ;  and  the  young  men  seemed 
to  think  that  the  father  of  Jan  had  too  much 
luck. 

The  Dominie,  who  had  been  waiting  at  the 
church  all  day,  was  hastily  notified  of  the 
curious  change,  so  that  he  should  leave  out 
of  his  discourse  all  objectionable  points,  such, 
for  instance,  as  the  matter  of  age. 

At  last,  then,  the  glass  coach  started  off 
with  the  fair  bride,  and  another  followed  with 
the  bridegroom. 

And  so  the  Dominie  made  them  one. 

Who  cared  that  the  flowers  in  the  arbor 
began  to  droop  ;  that  the  dishes  at  the  state 
dinner  were  overdone  ;  that  the  guests  had 
more  the  aspect  ol  condoling  than  congratu 
lating  ?  Who  cared  ?  You  see,  after  all,  a 
Van  der  Yelde  married  a  De  Lesken,  and 
everything  is  in  a  name. 


KITWYK    STOKIKS 


\  i-:s,  youn^-  Mynheer  \\  as  honest,  at  least. 

In  the  early  dawn  <>t  the  next  clay.  l\ol>us 
found  his  lioat  a^'ain  in  its  usual  place. 

"  Poor  hoy,  perhaps  he  has  come  hack  ! 
( iod  have  mercy  on  him!  '  thought  the  old 
man,  sorrowfully.  "II  I  could  only  see  him! 
(  ),  Mynheer  de  Lesken,  Mynheer  de  Leskcn, 
it  y<  )ii  'd  but  waited  till  to-day  ! 

Never  was  Kitwyk  in  such  a  state  ot  ex 
citement  before.  Mvnheer  de  Lesken  s  house 
was  the  cynosure  ot  all  eyes.  \\  as  it  sur 
prising,  then,  that  at  every  sound  or  noise 
proceeding  from  that  respectable  dwelling, 
every  Mevrouw  and  M\nheer  should  stare  at 
it  stealthily  through  the  round  hole  in  the 

closed     shutters    till     there    was    ail     unseen    line 

(it    ni'^ht  caps    \\ith    frills,    brought    up   in    tin- 
rear   l>y    ni^ht  caps    \\ith    tassels,  through    the 

\\holc     row     of      houses     opposite      Mynheer     de 

I  .esken's  .J 

Still,  exhausted  nature  must  seek  rehel,  and 
they  were  all  sleeping  the  sleep  of  the  just, 
\\  hen  some  one  knocked  with  the  brass  knocker 
against  Mynheer's  front  door. 

"Merciful     I'ather,     it    's     Mynheer     [an! 
cried    an    excited    feminine    voice. 


THE    STORY    OF    LESKEN 


313 


"  Open  the  door  instantly,  Cosette,"  cried 
fan  —  for  it  was  he.  His  face  was  haggard 
and  pale,  and  his  whole  appearance  was  dis 
ordered. 


JAN    RETURNS. 

The  housemaid  proceeded  to  obey  this  com 
mand  with  great  deliberation.  Being  a  woman, 
Cosette  felt  as  if  she;  had  a  personal  griev 
ance  against  this  errant  bridegroom.  The 
door  being  opened  she  concluded,  on  nearer 


314  KITWYK    STORIES 

examination,  that  Mynheer   Ian  was  not  to  be 

J  J 

trilled  with. 

"  Cosette,  I  must  speak  with  my  father; 
has  In-,  come  down  yet  ?  Stay!  I  will  go  to 
his  room." 

"  It  you  please,  Mynheer,"  cried  Cosette, 
laying  a  detaining1  hand  upon  his  arm  and 
speaking  with  ^reat  distinctness,  "  it  you 
please,  Mynheer  and  Mevrouw  haye  not  yet 
come  down-stairs." 

"Mynheer  and  Mevrouw  --  Mevrouw  ?" 
Ian  repeated,  staring  at  her  in  utter  astonish- 

J  O 

ment. 

"\\hat  do  you  mean?  \Yho?  Mevrouw? 
\\nat  Mevrouw?"  he  cried. 

"  Mevrouw  de  Lesken  ;  tor,  as  you  did  not 
come.  Mynheer  your  lather  married  the  pretty 
yoiin:^  lady  himself,"  Cosette-  exclaimed  spite- 
tully  and  triumphantly,  in  the  happy  conscious 
ness  that  she  had  avenged  her  sex. 

"Married    Betty -- married     her     himself5 
\Yhy,"  said  Jan,  with  a  wild   lau^h,  quite   lor 
^ettin^"    Cosette's    presence — "why,     then    I 
don't  need  to  ask  his  forgiveness  — 

'I  hen  he  laughed  a^am,  and,  alter  the  man 
ner  of  men,  felt  as  if  he  had  been  shamefully 
abused. 


THE    STORY    OF    LESKEN  315 

"  Cosette,  I  shall  go  to  my  room  and  wait 
till  Mynheer  and  Mevrouw  "  —  with  a  just  per 
ceptible  stress  on  the  last  —  "  till  Mynheer  and 
Mevrouw  come  down  to  — 

"  Not  in  my  house,  sir.  You  have  no  room 
in  my  house  —  you  are  a  stranger  here  !  "  a 
harsh  voice  suddenly  interrupted. 

As  Jan,  with  a  start,  raised  his  eyes,  he  be 
held  his  father,  enveloped  in  a  voluminous 
dressing-gown,  standing  in  the  middle  of  the 
great  stairs. 

For  a  moment  they  looked  at  each  other 
like  two  mortal  enemies,  with  emotions  too 
strong  for  words.  Then  the  violent  passion 
of  the  elder,  made  more  furious  by  intense 
jealous}-,  spurned  control. 

"  Leave  my  house?,  you  —  you  wretch  !  "  he 
cried,  striking  the  balustrade  with  his  clenched 
hand.  "  Leave  this  house,  and  let  me  never 
see  your  face  again,  you  man  without  honor 
or  shame  !  you  disgrace  to  your  name  — 

"Stop,  father!      You  are  my  father,  and  - 
Heaven  forgive?  me! — I  am  in  elange?r  of  for 
getting  it." 

"  Ilolel  your  tongue!"  screamed  Mynheer. 
"  You  have  brought  wretchedness  enough 
here." 


316  KITNVVK    STOKIKS 

"  I  know —  I  know  ;  I  cannot  excuse  myself; 
you  would  not  understand  me  should  I  try. 
But  it  seems  you  have  no  reason  to  complain 
ot  the  wretchedness  I  caused." 

"What?    what?    I  )o  you  taunt  me  with  try 
in^  tohule  yourdisj^race  ?"  Mynheer  screamed, 
leaping  down   the   stairs  toward   his  son,  with 
uplifted  arm. 

"Beware!  (an  shouted;  "beware,  Myn 
heer  de  Lesken  !  \  on  have  no  son,  I  no 
lather;  as  you  have  forgotten,  1  may  tor^et. 
\\  e  are  strangers  now,  as  you  wished.  Be  it 
so.  1  have  main'  things  to  repent  of  in  my 
lite,  hut  my  last  words  to  you,  which  will  ever 
remind  you  that  you  had  a  son,  shall  he,  that 
I  mi-ht  have  been  a  better  son  had  you  been 
\o,  no!  It  is  cowardly  to  accuse  you. 
Cowardly-  cowardly!  \Ve  shall  never  see 
each  other  a^ain.  May  you  —  be  —  happy! 
and  [an,  without  another  word,  left  his  lather's 
house,  and  closed  behind  himselt  forever  the 
spotless  Iront  door  with  its  brass  knocker.  1  le 
strode  down  the  silent  street  till  some  one 
came  stumping  towards  him. 

"  I  )ear  boy  !    dear   Mynheer   [an   tie  Lesken 

"  kobus,      kobus,      never      more       |an      de 


THE    STORY    OF    LKSKEN  317 

Lcsken  !  "  and  Jan  covered  his  face  with  his 
hands. 

"  Mynheer  Jan,  come  to  my  house;.  All  will 
he  well  again  in  a  few  days,"  old  Kobus 
pleaded,  laying  his  hand  on  the  young  man's 
arm. 

"  Xever,  never,  old  friend.  I  must  be  gone. 
I  must  go  tar  away,  where  no  one  will  ever  be 
disgraced  by  me  again." 

The  sun  broke  through  the  mist  of  the  earlv 

o  ^ 

morning  as  the  two  walked  slowly  toward  the 
canal,  and  such  of  Kitwyk  as  were  already  up 
were  rewarded  by  seeing  for  the  last  time 
Mynheer  Jan  de  Lesken. 

IX 

WHY  try  to  excuse  him?      It  is  impossible. 

He  went  far.  far  away,  as  he  said  he  would. 
"Far  away"  meant,  at  first,  to  Amsterdam, 
and  then  to  Rotterdam  ;  but  lite;  was  not 
pleasant  in  the  neighborhood  ol  illustrious 
\  an  der  Velcles.  One  day,  as  he  was  aim 
lessly  roaming  about  the  great  docks  of 
Rotterdam,  he  thought:  "  \Yhy  not  sail 
away  and  see  if  there;  is  a  future  for  you  in 
another  country  ?  " 


3iS  KITWYK    STORIKS 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  fan  sailed  over  the 
wide  oceau  to  see  the  world  —  too  late! 

Poor,  unfriended  as  he  was,  he  tried  to  make 
the  best  of  life.  f  Ie  \\  as  a  dreamer.  The 


world  only  tolerates  rich  dreamers;  poor 
dreamers  come  to  nothing.  So  fan  de  Lesken 
came  to  nothing,  like  many  another  man.  I  Ie 
turned  for  help  to  the  instrument  that  had 
caused  him  so  much  misery,  hut  among  men 
who  had  lived  and  learned,  he  knew  nothing. 
I  Ie  dreamed  his  lite  away,  playing  here  and 
playing'  there,  barely  earning"  his  livelihood, 


THE    STORY   OF    LESKEN  319 

till  one  day  he  obtained  a  place  in  the  orches 
tra  of  the  old  Wallack  Theatre.  As  the  years 
went  on,  the  feeling  of  what  he  had  been 
grew  duller  and  duller,  till  it  seemed  a  forgot 
ten  dream. 

Hut  one  night,  he  heard  a  song. 

Fresh  and  strong,  the  memory  of  his  life's 
story  returned  to  him  ;  for  in  this  song  he  rec 
ognized  a  simple  melody  the  great  violinist 
had  played  the  morning  of  the  day,  fifty  years 
before,  that  should  have  been  his  wedding- 
day.  Father  and  bride  and  friends  were  long 
since  dead,  and  he,  who  had  nothing  to  live  for, 
sat  there,  where  they  made  people  merry  for 
money,  and  scratched  away  at  his  fiddle.  Were 
you  ever  in  the  old  Wallack  Theatre?  Did 
you  never  see  the  bent  old  man  in  the  left- 
hand  corner  of  the  orchestra,  who  played  the 
violin  with  trembling  hands,  or  sat  there  lost 
in  thought?  That  was  old  Lesken,  once  of 
Kitwyk. 


A     000123548     o 


DO  X  EY     i 

IMPORTER 

SAN    FUANCISCqJ 


-  .  •' 


\J"~      _7"  •   I 

A\  u  J/ 


1C. 


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